


No Walls Can Hold Us (On Hiatus)

by screamingatstars



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Arguing, Betrayal, Brotherly Love, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Men Crying, Mild Language, Misgendering, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period Typical Bigotry, Period-Typical Sexism, Self-Sacrifice, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Torture, Trans Male Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Transphobia, tagging both just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-01-04 16:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 35,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingatstars/pseuds/screamingatstars
Summary: Five prisoners. Five stories. One shared cell, and one common goal: Escape.Patton, Roman, Logan, Virgil, and Janus find themselves as prisoners together in a medieval time. They will share their stories, and eventually their secrets, with each other as they search for a way out of their cell and back to freedom.But what deeper goings-on will they discover along the way...?





	1. Patton’s Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y’all!  
so for this thing I basically just threw the sides into a cell together and went from there.  
I’m really excited for this story, hope you like it!

Patton struggled against his chains, desperation heightening. They were getting ever closer to the prison, and if they arrived, if he was put into a cell, he’d never leave. The queen’s sentences were final.

“Please,” he begged the guard leading him down the path, “I swear I wasn’t part of it! Someone told me to be there, I didn’t know-“

“Shut it, traitor,” the guard snapped, shoving him along. Patton cried out, stumbling and nearly faceplanting on the dirt. “I’ve heard it all before.”

But I’m not a traitor! Patton thought miserably.  
They continued on, Patton and the lone guard down the narrow dirt road leading from the queen’s sentencing court to the prison. There, he was to be locked up for however many years remained in his natural life.  
Patton had no idea what he was walking into, what to expect. The prison’s location was a secret, and he knew of no one who had ever been there. He couldn’t imagine what went on in there, or what it even looked like, but he could guess it was nothing he wanted any part of. The queen was not known for her mercy or sympathy.  
After they had walked for some time longer, Patton began to wonder if they’d ever arrive, or if this was his real punishment: To walk this road, shoeless, bound hand and foot, taking one shuffling step after another until he collapsed from the weight of the iron chains. Or even the weight of the silence that enveloped them.  
His thoughts began to wander. To the thing that got him in this situation… the crime he didn’t commit…

“Be out back of the tavern at midnight. I’ll… meet you there.”  
Patton had gone. Had even arrived early. And he had waited patiently, hoping to finally speak to him.  
But he had never arrived. Instead, armed guards had swarmed him, slapping him in chains and dragging him away before he knew what was happening.  
He had screamed, but they gagged him, warning him to hold his tongue. He hadn’t even known what he was being taken for until the trial.  
The guard had received a warning that a group of insurgents were planning to meet behind the tavern at midnight. Insurgents who wanted to overthrow the queen.  
And they thought Patton was one of them.

Finally, the guard yanked on Patton’s arm, shaking him from his thoughts.

“Stop,” he ordered. “We’re here.”  
Patton looked up from the ground and couldn’t help but gape at the sight before him.  
The prison was massive; a boxy rectangle rising at least thirty feet high and wider than he could see, constructed entirely out of pitch black stone. No windows to let in light; no embellishments to make it pleasing to look at. This building was intended to strike fear into him, and boy was it working.  
A solid, imposing black wall at least ten feet high and adorned with sharp points surrounded the structure, with no visible gaps except for the door they had stopped in front of. Together, the desired effect was achieved: Patton was trembling where he stood and struggling to breathe as he realized that this was where he would be held.

“Please,” he whispered, a final desperate plea. “Don’t do this.”  
The guard ignored him.  
At some unknown signal, the massive door swung open, and Patton was once again shoved forwards, forced inside. A multitude of knights- knights!- were gathered, weapons held at the ready. He shuddered as he took in the sight, unbroken ranks of armored warriors.  
From the crowd of knights, one stepped out of formation and approached them. He wore a red cloth around his arm stamped with the queen’s emblem, signaling he was a captain.

“State your purpose,” he ordered roughly.

“Delivering new prisoner 3413 to begin sentence,” responded Patton’s guard.  
The captain nodded, snapping his fingers sharply. From behind him, a squire scampered forward with a scroll. The captain read something from it, nodding to himself. 

“And can you verify his crime and sentence?” He asked, looking back to Patton and his guard expectantly.  
Patton squirmed, uncomfortable. The chains were so heavy, and all the gathered knights were leveling cold glares at him, sizing him up. The hatred in their eyes made him want to wither away, away from this intimidating prison and the crime that he hadn’t committed.  
All he wanted at this very moment was to be home again.

“Prisoner 3413 has been charged with conspiracy against the crown. For this crime, he has been sentenced to life imprisonment.” Patton squeezed his eyes shut against the accusation.  
The captain nodded, satisfied. He stepped aside, and Patton yelped as he was pushed again from behind. He quickly began walking, afraid to move too slow and risk the knight’s wrath.  
He was brought into the dark structure and led down an endless maze of twisting halls and windowless doors. The inside of the prison was eerily silent, the only sounds the clanking of his chains and the echoes of their footsteps on the dreary stones. The otherwise empty walls were lined with lit torches that cast tall, twisted shadows around them, making Patton jump each time he saw one move out of the corner of his eye. He was trembling violently now, teeth chattering despite the uncomfortable warmth.  
After what seemed like an eternity of walking, and shouldering an ever-growing feeling of hopelessness, Patton was pulled to a stop in front of one of the many seemingly identical doors. 

“We’re here,” his guard sneered. “Home sweet home.”  
He rapped on the door with one fist, keeping his other hand firmly grasped around Patton’s arm. As if Patton would try to run down the dim labyrinth of corridors, probably filled with hidden guards and spiders.  
As they waited for the door to open, the thought occurred to him that this was to be his cell.  
When a guard opened the wooden door from the inside and Patton was once again prompted to move, he found he couldn’t. His legs were locked, his entire body frozen in terror. He gasped for air.

“I got him,” the guard inside the room groaned, reaching out and grabbing Patton by the wrist. In one swift motion he pulled him inside, swung the door shut, and pushed him hard through yet another doorway. Patton lost his balance, falling face first onto a cold stone floor. He moaned in pain, dazed, aching, and vulnerable.  
He barely registered the chains on his wrists and feet being removed, or the sound of this second, inner door being closed and locked tight. He simply lay on the ground, surrounded by darkness, attempting to breathe.  
He was in prison.  
Patton Sanders, innocent man, was locked up for life.


	2. V Appears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Patton wakes up for the first time inside the cell, he finds that he’s not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a thing got cancelled yesterday so I got three extra hours of time to revise this chapter, hopefully it shows :)
> 
> if there’s any more content warnings/triggers i should add, leave a comment letting me know and I’ll do that
> 
> cw: slight panic, mentions of panic attacks  
~~~~~~~

When Patton next opened his eyes, he was no longer facedown on the cell’s stone floor. He was lying on his back, with a thin blanket covering him. Even so, he was shivering, and this time it really was from the cold. 

He sat up slowly, taking in his new surroundings. His new home.

As he looked around the cell, he felt his heart break just the tiniest bit. The small room was barely lit, only a tiny slit near the low ceiling letting in a sliver of moonlight. It was bare, save for a mound of what he assumed were blankets in the corner, and entirely made of blank stone that seemed to drain his life away the longer he stared at it.

In fact, just being in this cell made him feel like his life was being drained.

It was then that he noticed a spiderweb threaded across the narrow slit in the wall, and his stomach sank as his breathing picked up. 

_ No, no, no! _ He thought frantically, gasping for breath. He could _ not _have a panic attack now, over a measly spiderweb… that could have a spider in it… that could crawl on him...

But before he could panic, someone spoke.

“Try and take deep breaths.” The voice was barely audible.

Twisting around, still panting, Patton saw a dim figure sitting against the wall. His face was concealed in shadow, and he had his knees tucked against his chest. Squinting, he could barely make out any further details other than that his clothing was dark and he was wearing a hood. He couldn’t tell who this stranger was at all. 

“Don’t be scared,” the figure reassured him quietly, not looking up at him. The tone was soft, maybe even vulnerable. “I’ve been where you are. Trust me, I know how you feel.” Patton could hear a note of bitterness and despair in the next words he spoke. “Not exactly where anyone wants to be.” 

The man lifted his face then, allowing the scant light to illuminate his features. Patton sucked in a breath. This was no man, he was only a boy! He couldn’t have been a day over seventeen. He had a thin face- _ so young- _and dark bags under eyes half-covered by bangs. “But I promise,” the boy continued, either oblivious to or ignoring Patton’s reaction, “it’s really not all that bad in here. I’ll show you how it works.”

“How what works?” Patton replied dumbly. He was still a tad light-headed from the panic.

“Prison life,” he said simply, shrugging. “Since we’re apparently sharing a cell now, it’s on me to teach you the ropes.”

So this was his cellmate, then. He had a cellmate! Who was friendly, and not trying to murder him! Who could hopefully deal with spiders so he wouldn’t have to! Because he was trapped in this cell with no way out and couldn’t get away from them!

He giggled. He couldn’t help it: his nerves were shot and he was terrified. Yes, completely and utterly terrified. Even with his new company, he was still in prison! For no good reason! And he had no clue what was going on! He put his head in his hands, a trace of giggles still shaking him. He felt warm tears start to slide down his cheeks. Breathing was once again becoming difficult.

“Uh- shoot, are you okay?” His cellmate half stood, as if to move towards him, but hesitated. He nervously pushed long bangs out of his eyes and pulled at his hood.

Patton did his best to swallow down his fear. He had to put on a brave face; if he didn’t, he might lose it- and if the way the boy was wringing his hands was any indication, it looked as if it might hurt his cellmate, too.

_ Silver linings, now. _

“N-no, I’m not… well, I am, I, just…” He paused for air, and his cellmate repeated cautiously, “Deep breaths.” Patton did his best, and after a minute or two he found he had enough breath to form words.

“It was actually just the spiderweb,” he explained sheepishly, gesturing. “I wasn’t… I’m scared of spiders, and seeing that just pushed me over the edge a little. That’s all it was.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He really had been panicking because of the web… the first time. He couldn’t dwell on the bigger picture right now. He had other things to worry about.

Like the fact that this boy was here at all. Patton had company. He had a cellmate. His battered heart lifted just a bit. 

He may have been unjustly imprisoned, terrified, and basically hopeless (_ don’t think about it) _ , but at least he wasn’t alone. Having… his cellmate here might just make this ordeal bearable. What _ was _this boy’s name, anyway?

“I’m Patton,” he said, coughing and clearing his throat when no sound cane out and trying again. “I’m Patton,” he repeated, clear this time. “It’s nice to meet you, um…” he paused, waiting.

He had expected his cellmate to supply his name, but the huddled figure remained silent. After a long, awkward silence in which Patton started to squirm, he finally spoke, volume raised from a murmur to normal speech. 

“I’m not telling you my name.” His cellmate’s voice was suddenly closed off, defensive. The soft demeanor from before was gone, tenseness in its place. Something like confusion must’ve shown on Patton’s face, because he went on, if a bit grudgingly.

“Sorry. It’s just that I’ve been here awhile. Pays to be vigilant, you know? You can never tell what kind of people you’ll run into.”

“No, I understand,” Patton assured quickly. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable. But, if we’re going to be in here together… what should I call you if I don’t know your name?”

After a moment of silence, “V” was his answer.

“Well, V,” he said, trying to force an upbeat tone, “I hope we can be friends, even if… you know… we’re both locked up for…” he trailed off as it suddenly dawned on him that even this mostly soft spoken young man must’ve been here for a reason.

“Don’t worry.” It was as if V could read his thoughts. “I know you don’t really have a reason to trust me, but I really don’t want to hurt you or anything.” A short, humorless chuckle. “I’m way too cowardly for that.”

“Well, don’t say that!” Patton replied instinctually. 

“...what do you mean?”

“Don’t say things like that about yourself,” he said, much of the vigor gone from his voice. Had he gone too far? He had spoken without thinking, again, and he didn’t know how V would react to him saying things like that. He didn’t feel like he was in any danger, but still...

Luckily, instead of becoming angry or defensive, as Patton had feared, V actually laughed. The sound was almost wistful.

“You’re not exactly your average criminal, are you, Patton?”

His heart dropped through the floor. 

He ignored it, pasting as wide a smile as he could muster onto his face. 

“Nope! I’m just a happy father figure!” He said, hoping to get a real smile out of V.

He was rewarded with a small grin.

“Well, Patton,” said V, “if you really are a dad character, I guess I’d better go to sleep now.” Was that a twinkle in his eye? “Probably past my bedtime.”

Patton’s hopes lifted. If this was what his life would be like now, if he could have this talking and joking with V, he could get used to this dynamic.

“You’re darn right, get some sleep, V,” he replied cheerily. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

V smiled again and gave him a mock salute before stretching out on the floor and turning to face the wall. Once his back was turned, Patton let the big smile slip from his face.

He sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the younger boy. His presence in the prison had him wrapped up in knots. He seemed like a genuinely good guy, the kind of youth who should be out apprenticing, not thrown into jail to rot. What’s more, his offer of teaching Patton how prison worked made it seem like he had been here for awhile. He couldn’t help but wonder: What could he possibly have done, in order to end up here?

V never had answered his question...

And he found himself wondering, _ Could he be like me? _

Between the cold prison, the stone floor, and the mysterious boy in the corner, Patton didn’t get much more sleep that night.


	3. Thomas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V and Patton have part of their first day in prison, but it doesn’t go as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I finally finished this chapter! Somehow it ended up being over 2k words?? Somehow?  
Not gonna lie this one was a bit difficult to write, just because there were multiple elements I was trying to make sure were in there in a place that made sense. And in case you were wondering, the other sides will start showing up in the next chapter :) Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Cw: physical violence, yelling

“Wake up, traitors!”

Patton hadn’t actually been asleep, but he jumped anyway. He whipped his head up from where it had been leaning on his hand, only to squint as a bright light shone in his eyes. A tiny, barred window in the cell door had been uncovered from the outside, letting in the torchlight, and the guard outside was glaring in at them. 

“Breakfast!” Yelled the guard. “Get up now or it’s gone!”

Patton didn’t move. The guard was angry, and yelling, and most definitely taller and stronger than himself. 

V, however, didn’t seem to share his fear. He leaped to his feet and moved swiftly over to the door. Patton moved to stop him, but then V emerges fully from the shadows and he stopped. For the first time, Patton saw his cellmate in full light. 

His clothes were all pure black- his cloak, his tunic, everything. Well, they would have been, if not for the purple patches sewn roughly onto them. He noticed many other, smaller holes devoid of repairs, and realized that those ones must have worn through in the prison. V’s entire outfit hung off of his frame loosely, several sizes too big. And even though he looked to be taller than Patton, the large clothes made him look small.

As V approached, the guard scoffed. 

“Why’re they even bothering to feed you anymore?” He smirked, clearly not expecting an answer. V didn’t give him one. He simply stood in front of the door and waited.

After a moment, a slim slot in the heavy door that Patton hadn’t even noticed was pushed open, and a tray was shoved through. He gasped as it fell towards the ground, but V didn’t even flinch. He reacted swiftly, barely having to bend his knees to catch it in his hands. He didn’t acknowledge Patton or the guard as he turned on his heel and marched back to the corner he had been sitting in.

Having seen V’s example, Patton stood, but before he could move the guard sneered derisively. 

“You snooze, you lose, traitorous filth,” he spat. He snapped the meal slot closed and fastened the cover over the window, plunging the cell back into shadow.

Patton shuddered and sat back down. He sighed and clasped his hands together around his knees. Now that he wasn’t alone, he no longer felt on the verge of a breakdown, but he had still slept very little the night before. Not to mention he hadn’t eaten since he had gotten in here. His last meal had been before his trial, and even that had been small- only bread and water. 

As if it could tell what he was thinking about, his stomach grumbled loudly. Patton longed for his portion of the food the guard had offered. He couldn’t help but look over to V, who, surprisingly, wasn’t eating his food. Instead, the boy was watching Patton, holding his gaze with a calculating look in his eye. 

Before Patton could think of anything to say, something funny, perhaps, V held out a chunk of bread. The rest of him didn’t move, still huddled in his corner.

“You want some?” 

Patton was torn. He was so hungry his head was starting to spin, but at the same time…

“That’s your breakfast, kiddo,” he told V. “You look like you need it.” It was true. He couldn’t see his cellmate’s form at all under the baggy clothes, but his face was gaunt, and the hand that offered him bread (that he desperately wanted but wouldn’t take from him) was absolutely skeletal. 

Something in V’s face softened. 

“Well, when was the last time you ate anything?” He questioned.

Patton squirmed. 

“Before the trial… but I’m okay, really!” Almost on cue, his stomach growled again, the small sound made large in the small, empty space. V stared him down. 

“You don’t sound like it.” When Patton still wouldn’t move to take his offering, the boy stood up with a grunt and made his way over.

Patton put his hands up in an effort to dissuade him, but instead V took the opportunity to shove the food into one of his hands. 

The second the bread was in his possession, he was a goner. The gnawing hunger overrode his insistence otherwise, and within a minute he had devoured the whole portion.

V stood above him, a satisfied expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Patton said miserably. “That was your food…”

“Look, Pat.” The boy squatted down until he was face-to-face with Patton. He waited until they made eye contact before he continued talking. “You seem like a really good one. I’m not gonna let you starve.” 

“But you need-“

“I really, really don’t.” His eyes were pleading with him. “Don’t push it, please?”

Slowly, Patton nodded. V smiled and stood up, once again retreating to his corner.

“Umm..” V turned at Patton’s voice. Patton couldn’t help but be embarrassed at what he had to ask. He was the adult here, after all…

“Do you think… um, where’s the… bathroom…?” 

He had no idea how any of this worked. V grinned at the expression on his face.

“They shouldn’t be coming back until dinner later,” he said from the shadows. “Think you can make it till then?”

Patton nodded. “Thanks, V.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

Later- but definitely not dinner later- a different guard than before appeared at the door. 

“Knock, knock, we’re going for a walk,” said the new guard. He cracked open the huge door, grunting a bit as he pushed it. “Exercise and all that.”

Patton was taken aback by this sudden attitude shift from the previous guard, but V just shrugged.

“Guess you’re pretty popular, Pat,” he muttered jokingly as he stretched up from the floor. “Usually it’s weeks between walks- and never this early.”

The new guard put shackles on their wrists before leading them carefully out of the dark cell and into the warm torchlight. Patton blinked away a few tears. He had only been in there for a day or two, and he’d be going back in soon, but even so, leaving was heaven. V walked next to him, never speaking to him. He simply put one foot in front of the other as he stared at the ground. Patton still couldn’t tell any kind of pattern to the prison other than that it was a maze, and that there were more guards than he had seen coming in. Every hall looked the same: The same evenly spaced torches lined the same monotone walls broken by only the same simple doors. 

All too soon, a small yank of their shackles told V and Patton to turn around, and they were heading back. He mournfully savored the feeling of walking as they retraced their steps back to the cell. The guard stopped, a conflicted expression on his face. 

“I need to go get Brantley,” he finally said. “Stay here.” With that, he locked their shackles to a metal ring bolted to the door that Patton hadn’t noticed before, and took off down the hall. He disappeared around the corner, leaving them alone.

Patton tilted his head at V in confusion. “...what was that all about? He’s… different than the other one.”

V shrugged. “He’s the nice guard. He takes us for walks and bathroom breaks. His name’s Thomas; the one from breakfast is Brantley.”

“Why did he have to go get him?” 

“I don’t know,” said V. “Thomas is new, not to mention inexperienced. So he’s not a complete jerk like the others yet. Could be anything really.”

They stood chained to the door for longer than seemed entirely safe. Several times a guard would pass by, jump or shout at the sight of them outside the cell, then relax and give a sneer once Patton hurriedly held up his shackled wrists. Every once in a while, an armor-free knight would march past, and the prisoners would have a sword pulled on them before they could even breathe.

The passage of time was impossible to gauge from within the prison. The torchlight never wavered, never shifted, and the entirety of the complex was devoid of windows. For all Patton knew, they could’ve been standing here for twenty minutes or several hours. Beside him, V began to shift anxiously, shuffling gradually closer to the door in an attempt to blend in, edging a bit further with each new person to pass them.

Finally, right when Patton was beginning to think his new friend would slip right through the wood with how hard he was pressing against it, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Their guard- Thomas, he remembered V saying- rounded the corner, a heavy ring of keys now rattling from his belt.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he puffed as he braced a hand against the wall to steady himself. “Had to get the outer cell key from Brantley.”

Patton wasn’t sure if he was supposed to respond, but he decided to anyway. Thomas seemed like a nice guy, he probably wouldn’t get mad.

“It’s nice to be out of there for a little longer,” he said sincerely. “I liked it.”

Thomas gave him a winded smile.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” he said. “I’m new; not used to this gig.” He reached for his key ring and flipped through several before selecting one, fishing it off. 

He hesitated a moment, glancing from the key to Patton and back again. After his deliberation, he reinserted the key into the ring and held out his hand to Patton.

“Name’s Thomas,” he said, offering a slightly awkward smile. “I’m your guard, I guess.”

Patton eagerly shook his hand. 

“Patton,” he told Thomas. “It’s nice to officially meet you!”

Just then, over Thomas’s shoulder, he saw Brantley turned the corner. As his eyes fell upon Thomas and Patton shaking hands, his entire face flushed dark red and his fists balled tight. Thomas paled, having seen Patton’s expression.

“Sorry,” he whispered frantically, snatching his hand back as if it had been burned. 

Behind them, unseen, V slumped to the floor, his hands gripping the chains that still bound him to the door.

“SANDERS!” Roared Brantley, his voice filling the hall. “WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOOD QUEEN EMILY DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

“I-I… nothing, Brantley,” Thomas stuttered.

“SHAKING HANDS WITH TRAITORS IS A BIT MORE THAN NOTHING!”

“I’m sorry, I promise, I was-“

“It was my fault, sir,” Patton chimed in. Both guards turned to him, and he winced. He could practically _ feel _Brantley’s murderous glare piercing him. “I was distracting him.” He registered that V was tugging at his leg, probably warning him to stop. 

Patton didn’t.

“He wasn’t trying to help us, sir, I swear. Look!” He dangled his hands in front of his face, to show the chains still securely fastened. “We weren’t trying to escape, and he was doing his job.”

Thomas smiled at him gratefully. Beside him, Brantley stared for a moment, silent. In one motion, he strode forward, slapped Patton across the face, and shoved him to the ground. He fell, colliding roughly.

He groaned, cheek scraping the hard floor. His hands stung where he had tried to catch himself, and his wrists ached where the shackles were pulled to their limits. His head was ringing as he vaguely registered Thomas protesting and Brantley walking off.

He felt more than saw Thomas undoing his chains and carrying him into the cell, carefully laying him out on the floor. A moment later, the door opened again, and then V was at his side.

“You idiot,” he whispered shakily, kneeling next to Patton. “What were you thinking? That was a really risky thing you did just to be nice!”

Patton couldn’t muster the strength to respond.

“I’m… really sorry, Patton.” Both of them startled a bit, having not noticed that Thomas was still outside the door. “I didn’t know he was there… I didn’t mean for this to happen…” his voice was thick with tears. “I never would have…”

V turned back to face the mournful guard. He didn’t speak, instead giving him a silent nod of approval before turning back.

Soon the cell was locked again, and it was just him and his cellmate in the dark.

“He’s a nice guy,” Patton mumbled. “I like him.”

V shook his head, pulling one of the threadbare blankets over him. 

“No idea why he became a guard, then.” He muttered under his breath. “They’re usually all like Brantley… violent bastards.” Patton couldn’t bring himself to argue that sentence, though a part of him desperately wanted to. But he’d seen more than a few guards over the past few days, and as much as he wanted to defend them… his cellmate had a point.

“Gotta say, though,” v went on musingly, “Never thought I’d see the day someone called the queen _ good.” _

Patton coughed in surprise, struggling to sit up against the wall. He got there, with a little help from V.

“What do you mean?”

The boy furrowed his brow confusedly. 

“Well, she’s not a good ruler,” he stated matter-of-factly. “She overtaxes her subjects to the brink of poverty, her laws are all over controlling, and… she doesn’t like people.” He almost seemed like he had been starting to say one thing on the last part of his sentence, then changed it. Patton silently tries to remember that for later.

“But she’s our queen!” He said weakly. “Don’t we owe her everything?” 

V gave him a look that said he could see right through him.

“Don’t try and give me the speech, I’ve heard it enough. We don’t owe her anything and she’s a terrible ruler. I don’t owe her anything, she put me in prison for life. That’s all.” 

“But-“

“No.” The boy put a hand on Patton’s arm. “She’s unjust, Pat. After all, she threw _ you _in here, too.” He drew his hand back, retreating. “And after what I’ve seen today, anyone who throws you in a prison is either a lying fool or delusional.”

Patton stayed where he was, taken aback at his cellmate’s vehemence. Not to mention a bit frightened. He had always been taught that the queen was the one who gave them what they had, that without her they all would’ve starved and died. So to suddenly hear V so nonchalantly calling her an unjust tyrant… sure she was iron-willed, and perhaps a bit harsh with her judgements… and unwilling to hear his pleas of innocence…

He closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall. His cheek still smarted from Brantley’s slap, and he hadn’t slept much in a while. He was far too spent to scare himself thinking about the woman who was leading their kingdom. 

Patton fell into a restless sleep, V’s rebellious words still drifting through his mind.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me if I need to add a content warning


	4. New Cellmate Appears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton and V get some interesting news from Thomas- and meet someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is finally finished!! Hallelujah! And it’s over 2k too!
> 
> Forgot to put that there’s a tiny bit of blood in this chapter, nobody gets stabbed or anything, it’s just there for a second

After a few days, Patton saw himself beginning to settle into the routine of prison life. Shakily, and with more than a few instances of tripping, stuttering, or being humiliated, but any adjustment felt like a form of victory in his current circumstances.

Day after day of sitting in a tiny cell, receiving two scant meals a day, with occasional reprieves for walks. It was monotonous, but at least it was predictable. Or it would have been, if not for the guards.

Every day, a different person came and delivered their food or escorted them through the dark halls. Every once in a while, it would be Thomas, and Patton would find himself laughing and smiling, happy for the first time in ages. The young man had a kind heart and a surprisingly witty sense of humor, and treated Patton and V like they were old friends. He never raised his voice, never shoved them, never yanked on their shackles or mocked them. 

Never mocked V...

V was beginning to feel like an anchor in all of the abuse. Whenever a guard dumped Patton’s food on the ground, unsalvageable, V would share his despite Patton’s protests. Any time he received a rough shove or a hit for stumbling or smiling and couldn’t find the will to stand, V would quietly help him up when all backs were turned. 

Having V there made sitting in an empty, blank, mostly dark cell for hours on end almost bearable. The boy was quiet and demure around the bad guards, but when they were alone, or with Thomas, he revealed his true personality. Sarcastic, cynical, and mischievous- and somehow so genuine, Patton almost forgot they were both serving life sentences for treason.

The dynamic they developed was not what Patton had expected to find here, but he was so incredibly grateful for it. Somehow, he knew that if he had been in here alone, subjected to the guards’ abuse, without company… 

He never would have survived.

But the easy routine the two of them had built was stable on its own, which was why V wasn’t immediately thrilled when Thomas informed them that something would be coming along and throwing a wrench in the situation. Or, rather, some_ one. _

“Psst! Hey, you guys awake?” 

Thomas had opened the tiny cell window to talk to them, and the torchlight fell directly into Patton’s eyes. He squinted, holding up a hand to block it as he nodded at the guard.

“Yep, we’re awake. Hi, Thomas!” He didn’t even need to look over to V’s corner to know that he was wide awake. The younger boy never seemed to sleep at all. Thomas nodded distractedly, glancing over in V’s direction in acknowledgement.

“Okay. I don’t have a lot of time, and I’ll get in big trouble if anyone knows I told you-“ Thomas cut himself off, looking back behind him, left and right down the halls, before turning back and continuing. His face was a bit pale, and his breathing was quick.

“But you’ll be getting a new cellmate soon.”

Patton gaped, and from the corner of his eye he saw the shadows shift- Thomas has gotten V’s attention.

“Another cellmate?” He repeated. “Why would you get in trouble for telling us that?”

“No time to explain,” Thomas said, dragging a hand through his hair. “But he’s not your average prisoner, so… be prepared.” He stole a glance in V’s direction. “And… I’m sorry.”

With that, he snapped the window closed, cutting them off.

Patton turned to V, about to ask, when-

“Don’t ask.” V sounded defeated. “I don’t know any more about this than you do.”

“But why put three people in here? There’s so much room in the prison!” Patton said. The fortress was indeed massive, quite possibly the second largest structure in the kingdom. The only place he knew of that could be bigger was the queen’s palace. “I mean, having someone else in here would be nice, but isn’t it a bit of an odd decision?”

“I don’t know,” replied V tiredly. The smaller boy was still hidden in shadow, but Patton could practically hear his exhaustion, and knew he must be struggling to even stay awake. “I don’t like this. Maybe she’s throwing too many t-“

V cut himself off abruptly, slapping his hand over his mouth. Patton waited, but his cellmate did not continue his sentence.

“V? You okay over there, kiddo?”

Nothing. 

Then- heavy breathing. 

Huddled in the corner, V was visibly trembling.

“V! What’s wrong?” Patton scrambled to his feet and knelt beside him. Poor V was shaking like a leaf, and when Patton tried to wrap a comforting arm around his shoulders, he wrenched himself away with a choked cry.

“Ah, okay- no touching. I’m sorry.” V still didn’t say anything. Patton had no clue what had caused this panic. And it was clearly panic- he wasn’t entirely sure if V was even getting air anymore.

“V,” he said softly, “I need you to take a few deep breaths for me. Can you try and do that? Take your time if you need.” 

V nodded shakily, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He put his head between his knees and gasped for air as Patton sat, unsure of what V needed him to do. His hands hovered around him, never touching, searching for a way to help. Finally, just when Patton was beginning to worry, the boy sat up. His eyes were glistening, tear tracks down his cheeks. His chest was still heaving.

“...I…” V choked out, voice cracking twice on the simple syllable.

“No, it’s okay,” Patton rushed to say. “You don’t need to say anything just yet, focus on breathing, kiddo.” He wasn’t certain what V needed, but… he would stay here for him.

He sat patiently for many minutes as V’s breathing slowly returned to normal. And then his cellmate was whispering.

“What was that, V?” He leaned in closer, still keeping distance between them. “What do you need?” He hoped the note of desperation in his voice went unnoticed.

“...hug?” The boy was so quiet, his request no more than a sigh. Patton suppressed a shout of joy- this he knew how to do!

“Oh, of course, here-“ and Patton leaned into V’s side, wrapping his arms securely around him. V sighed, laying his head on Patton’s shoulder as his eyes drifted shut. The two remained there, unmoving. Patton looked down at V’s face, and realized with a start that he was asleep. A wave of warmth washed over him, and he felt a stirring of something like pride in his chest. V trusted him enough to sleep! 

He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, carefully, so as not to disturb his friend. His felt his eyes drifting shut, and for a brief moment he wondered what exactly had prompted V’s panic. Or what the new cellmate would be like, and when they would arrive. But he only had a few seconds to think about it before the warmth of the body next to his began to seep into his bones, and his attention began to waver. He already had his eyes closed, it would be so easy to drift away…

**BANG!**

Patton yelped, roused suddenly from his half-asleep state by a massive crashing noise. It was what he imagined all the guards in the prison dropping their shields all at the same time would sound like. V jerked, his head suddenly gone from Patton’s shoulder as he stared, wide-eyed, towards the door. 

“Hey, it’s okay, kiddo, it’s out there, not in here.” Nevertheless, the two kept their attentions fixed on the door. Which turned out to be a good thing when it flew open, the metal parts of it hitting the wall and creating the banging noise they had heard. It resonated in Patton’s head, and he clutched at his ears instinctively.

Next to him, V seemed to have frozen, but right as he noticed his friend’s reaction, someone was pushed into the cell. It was a tall, dark-haired man wearing a tattered hat. He stumbled from his push, but straightened and remained upright, gaze peering around the tiny space.

Patton felt his eyes immediately drawn to the man’s hands, which were covered by conspicuous yellow gloves. Under the limited torchlight, they seemed to glow.

“Alright, filth, your home sweet home,” sneered Brantley’s all-too-familiar voice. The new man turned to face the entrance, and Patton couldn’t help but gasp as he saw the man’s face fully illuminated. He had a massive burn scar across a full half of his face! He could glimpse scar tissue continuing down into his shirt as well. He couldn’t imagine what sort of agony the poor fellow must have been in when he got those marks.

“You’ll be here for… oh, how’s the rest of your worthless life sound?” Taunted another, less familiar voice. V shifted just barely, putting just a bit of distance between himself and the still-open door. “Feel free to get comfortable- or not.” 

The man- their new cellmate- didn’t speak. He didn’t even look like he was fully there- Patton couldn’t see a hint of emotion or recognition on his face. He just took a step back into the cell as Brantley came into view, a sword in his hand. 

Patton couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of the weapon. He felt adrenaline flood his mind as he instinctively recoiled into the shadows, away from the bloodstained blade. As he went, threw out his arm, sweeping V protectively behind him. The boy let out a surprised squeak that was cut off as quickly as it began.

In the end, though, his reaction didn’t matter. Brantley didn’t even seem to notice that there were two prisoners huddled against the wall, or that his sword had made any kind of impression. He only waved it mockingly at the scarred man with a sneer, keeping him away from the open doorway, before he grabbed the heavy door and hauled it back into position, shutting the three of them inside. 

The sudden silence and darkness was consuming. Patton squinted, his eyes struggling to adjust; he could barely see the outline of their new cellmate. The one Thomas had warned them about, had said he ‘wasn’t a normal prisoner’, or something like that. And while part of Patton wanted to greet this new man with a smile and comforting words, a louder part held him back, warning that he was probably dangerous. 

The man turned a slow circle, taking in the tiny window, the close walls. His rotation paused as he faced where V and Patton sat, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t acknowledge them.

When his turning stopped, Patton held his breath, bracing for whatever was about to happen next. But he hadn’t been expecting the man to slump to the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut. One moment he was standing ramrod straight, and the next he was on the ground.

V made a motion as if he were about to stand, but then shook his head, and didn’t move.  
“Not worth it.” Patton’s heart panged, and sympathy for their new cellmate welled up inside him, threatening to burst his heart. 

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” he found himself saying. “We’ll never know unless we try and talk to him.”

Before he could second guess himself, he took a breath and stood, stepping lightly over to where he lay, motionless but breathing, on the ground. Behind him, V hissed, “What are you doing?” He pressed forward.

“Hey there,” he said cautiously, reaching hesitatingly towards him, maybe to offer a bit of comfort in what he knew all too well was a nightmarish situation. When the man didn’t respond, he gently touched his shoulder-

Before Patton could blink, he was on his back, having been slammed harshly to the ground by the man who just a moment before had been lying limp. He had Patton pinned, one hand at his throat and the other gripping his wrist in an iron grip. His knee dug into Patton’s chest, and he was looking him dead in the eye, a cold, vacant expression on his face. From here, he could see every bump and shadow on the man’s scar.

He opened his mouth to speak but found he couldn’t, not when there were fingers wrapped around his throat. He was still able to breathe, but just barely. It was probably a good thing, then, that he couldn’t talk, couldn’t try to apologize or reason with this man: He knew he needed to preserve his air. His heart was pumping frantically, and he could feel it pulsing where the knee was pressed into his chest.

“You do not touch me.”

The man’s voice was low, with a strange hissing quality to it: Patton nearly shuddered, he could almost feel the sound of it in his ears, and it wasn’t pleasant. 

“Did you hear what I said?” He demanded, leaning closer to Patton, easing the pressure on his throat while keeping his hand there. It took him a moment to breathe before he could answer.

“Uh-“ he swallowed, breathed, continued. “Yeah, yep, heard you loud and clear, no touching. Got it.” He kicked himself mentally for not thinking to ask before he touched him; he knew how important consent was! He was in here with V!

“Good. Then we won’t have a problem.” And with that, the knee was gone from his chest, the hand from his throat. He sat up, gratefully rubbing at his now-free neck. The new cellmate stood up, brushed off his clothes, and turned on his heel as he took up a position against the wall across from where Patton and V had been, leaning carefully against the wall. He tugged his hat lower, over his face, concealing his scar.

Patton felt a tug on his arm, and he turned back to V. There was a question waiting in his eyes, and he nodded. 

“I’m okay, kiddo,” he whispered. He looked back to their new cellmate, and then to V. Took in his worried face, but also his steady breathing, his tear-free eyes, his still hands. “We’re okay.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: I rewrote this chapter four (4) times from scratch because I’ve been messing with my rough outline and the order in which I want to introduce the characters.  



	5. Backstory and Breakout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new cellmate doesn’t want to socialize. But Thomas does, and he’s got a question to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, two chapters in the same month! :) Hopefully this can become a more regular occurrence from here on out. Hope y’all had happy holidays, whatever you do or don’t celebrate!

They had barely had a day to adjust to the new presence in their cell when it happened. 

Patton awoke the morning after the scarred man had been put in with them to find him sitting in the farthest corner of the cell, his head in his hands and his hat on the ground next to him. His shoulders were shaking, and while he made no sound, he was so obviously crying that Patton’s heart broke. He slowly, slowly stood, making his way carefully towards the newcomer, careful not to disturb V sleeping next to him.

As he approached, the new man froze, seeming to sense him there. He raised his head and glared, eyes narrowed, but not enough to hide how red and damp they were. 

“What do you want?” The scarred man said bitterly. His knuckles whitened where he gripped his own forearms, entire body tense and taut. Patton hesitated, unsure about how to go about comforting the man who didn’t want to be touched and he knew next to nothing about. His go-to comforting method had always been physical contact.

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of the cell window being opened. Three heads turned in unison to face it, and two identical sighs of relief were heard when they saw it was Thomas and not Brantley or another guard there. The new cellmate looked confused at the reaction, so Patton turned and whispered, “that’s Thomas, he’s really nice,” before giving his attention back to the man in question. 

“Morning, Patton, V,” Thomas said, offering a smile as he handed through their breakfast. V stood up and accepted the food for them, nodding his thanks to the kind guard. “How you guys doing today?”

“Doing just great!” Patton said, before V could say otherwise. He did his best to tell the boy with his eyes not to acknowledge the new elephant in the room.

Thomas shot a glance towards said new cellmate, but luckily didn’t comment on his silence or ask him any questions. 

“So,” he started, leaning against the door and craning his neck to still peer inside, “I’ve been getting kinda curious about something, and I was wondering if I could ask you about it, Patton? If you don’t mind?”

“Sure, kiddo!” Patton said, scooting away from the scarred man just enough so that Thomas wouldn’t be unintentionally looking at him. “What’s up?”

Thomas ran a hand through his hair and took a breath. His expression was somewhere between embarrassed and hopeful.

“If this is a little too personal, I understand, I am your guard after all, and you don’t have to tell me anything, but-“ Patton didn’t let him finish. 

“You can ask me anything, Thomas! We’re friends!” He stopped, realizing what he’d said. “Aren’t we?”

“Oh, of course we are, Pat! I didn’t mean to- gosh, I’m sorry. It’s just because, well…” The guard sighed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Never mind. It’s not that important.” He grinned far wider than he normally would, changing the subject. “But hey, I’ve got some news to share if you want it!” 

Patton was just about to speak up, to accept Thomas’ attempt at redirecting the conversation and let whatever his question was go. But V raised his hand in the air, motioning for Thomas to stop. 

“Hold up. Don’t change the subject like that, you gotta tell us what it is or I’ll worry about it all day.” The boy lowered his hood as he spoke, ruffling his already-unruly bangs as he did so. “What were you going to ask Pat?” He stood up from his spot against the wall, moving over to Patton and handing him his portion of food. After a short stare-off with the new man, he placed his food down in front of him before turning around and plopping himself next to Patton. “No such thing as a stupid question, right?”

Thomas stood silently, biting his lip. His face read worry, and he shifted several times as he thought. Finally, he seemed to give up, letting out a heave of air and raising his hands in surrender.

“Okay, you’re right. I was just wondering… Patton, I’m sorry in advance if this is too heavy, but you’re such a nice and selfless person that I can’t help but wonder: how did you end up in prison? What did you do?”

Every breath of air left his lungs.

Was breathing essential to survival? If it was, he wasn’t sure he remembered how. He opened his mouth, hoping that words would come out, or an explanation, but instead a strangled, garbled noise clawed its way up his throat. He coughed, thumping a fist against his chest, and found he could at least inhale again.

“Hey, hey, Patton, it’s okay! You don’t have to tell me, I’m sorry for even asking, that was stupid of me. Please breathe!” Thomas said frantically, reaching out through the barred window as best he could towards where Patton struggled. 

“You’re fine, Thomas,” V said bluntly, at Patton’s side in an instant. He offered a hand, which he gratefully grasped as he pulled in a deep breath, and then another. 

“N-no, you didn’t do anything wrong, kiddo, no need to apologize,” he managed, squeezing V’s hand where it rested in his own. He looked back up and met Thomas’ eyes, trying to smile but almost certainly failing. “You just caught me off- _ guard,  _ that’s all! I don’t mind telling you, really.” Anything for his friend, he couldn’t help but think.

“Are you sure? You seemed pretty freaked out,” Thomas said hesitantly, but Patton could see the curiosity in his eyes. The same curiosity he saw in V, as hard as he tried to hide it. They both wanted to know how he had ended up in this cell. And the way he saw it? The two of them deserved to know, after having been so incredibly kind to him.

“I’m sure,” he told Thomas, pulling his legs underneath himself so he was kneeling on the floor. “It’s not even that big of a deal, to tell you the truth. I was supposed to meet up with an old friend behind a tavern, at midnight. He said he had something to tell me that was really important, and he didn’t want anyone to hear.” A sad smile crept onto his face as he remembered. It hadn’t been all that long ago, really, so no wonder it felt like only yesterday. “I hadn’t seen him in… gosh, must’ve been at least two or three years. He’d been traveling, and I never did find out where he went. Maybe he never travelled at all; maybe it was a lie, I don’t know. But I was so excited to talk more with him again, catch up on old times, ask him about all his adventures. I even got there a little early, just to make sure I wouldn’t miss him.” Thomas and V were gazing at him intently, all focus on his words. The new cellmate seemed to be listening as well, Patton noticed. He wasn’t sure why the man was so standoffish, but seeing him peeking over in his direction out of the corner of his eye made his heart warm the tiniest bit. At least he’d know something about Patton, even if he didn’t want to talk about himself.

As he moved into the next part of the story, and as he thought about what was coming next, he felt the wistful smile that had grown on his face start to slip away. His mind began to sink just a bit further into the memory, the recall turning color as the details grew more vivid.

“So I showed up, behind the tavern, just before midnight. It was dark, almost as dark as in here, and it was cold, too. I remember wishing I had brought my cloak. I waited for a while, probably past midnight, but I figured he was just running a little late. He always liked his sleep, after all, so he probably slept a little longer than he meant to, you know?” 

Next to him, V nodded, enraptured. Thomas was leaning against the door, eyes wide and fascinated. Patton swallowed and cleared his throat, then continued. He could do this, come on, Patton. It’s not a big deal, do it for your friends.

“I got… grabbed. From behind, but there were a bunch of them. Royal guards, I mean, they just kind of… swooped in and carried me away, like they were a flock of messenger falcons and I was a little baby they had to deliver.” He tried to chuckle, hoping the approximation of a happy sound would hide the lump in his throat. “I didn’t know what was happening. I got shackled, and they kept telling me to stay quiet, to not ask them why they were taking me, and I was so scared of them, so I did what they said. I wasn’t allowed to bring anything with me, they didn’t even let me go back for my cloak. I didn't know that I was being arrested for treason until they put me on trial.” He sniffed, scrubbing at the wetness beginning to pool in his eyes. “Apparently someone tipped them off that… rebels were going to be meeting behind that tavern at midnight. So the guards came, and they found me just waiting there, and then I was a traitor to them. That’s all it took. I don’t know if Remy sent me there on purpose, I don’t know why he would set me up like that; we were friends since we were kids! I don’t know, I  _ don’t know.”  _ His chest felt tight, and a pressure was building in his head. Why was his vision going blurry? Why were his cheeks suddenly damp? Why was…

_ Oh.  _ He was crying. Full-on, ugly crying, before he could even register it happening. He felt gentle hands on his shoulders, felt himself being pulled against a warm body, and he didn’t even think as he threw his arms around V and sobbed. The boy’s cloak was surprisingly soft, and Patton buried his face into it immediately. V didn’t seem to mind the physical contact as he held him close, didn’t even protest the tears soaking into his shoulder. 

All the emotions from that night, from the trial, seemed to be coming back all at once. Had he let himself think about it at all since he arrived? He couldn’t remember. But it didn’t seem to matter.

“Patton…” 

Thomas’ voice cracked on his name, the sound closer than he expected. When he raised his head off of V’s shoulder, he gasped. Thomas was right in front of them, crouching next to where they sat on the cell floor, his eyes red and his face solemn. The door was still open, just barely, the key visible inside its hole. “I’m so sorry,” the guard said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you… I shouldn’t have asked about it, I should’ve known it would be like this.” 

Patton didn’t trust himself to speak. He couldn’t find the words to thank his friend for risking his job, possibly even his safety, to open that door and come inside to try and comfort him. All he could think to do was reach out a hand to Thomas, pulling away only slightly from V’s embrace as he did so. 

Right as their hands were about to touch, the still, silent man in the corner burst into action. One moment they had all seemingly forgotten he was there, having faded into the shadows; the next he was a blur of motion, yanking the still-ajar door fully open and sprinting through into the prison beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been writing a lot over the break so far, so hopefully I’ll be able to get another chapter written soon! If I can get another couple done over the break, I could potentially have something vaguely resembling a posting schedule for this fic, we’ll see how it goes.  



	6. Unexpected Guest Appearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is locked in with our two prisoners! Luckily, there just might be someone who can let him out.

Patton stared disbelievingly at the empty doorway. The man had just… vanished, gone in an instant, down the corridor and out of sight- but not before shoving the door closed and turning the key, locking the three of them inside. Not even stopping to shut the window hatch, leaving himself, V, and Thomas in a stunned huddle.

Time seemed to be frozen. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even feel. There would never be anything other than this moment.

And then time started again when Thomas cried out, the sound cutting through the cell: a wordless yelp as he sprang to his feet and lurched towards the door. His sudden absence, and the empty space where he had been, hurt more than Patton expected. He probably wasn’t entirely stable, in any sense, he decided.

Thomas slammed his fists against the closed door, knocking as hard as he could. The noise it made wasn’t nearly as loud as he had expected it to be.

“Hey, can anyone hear me? It’s Thomas, there’s an escaped prisoner on the loose! We’re locked in here, I need someone with a key! Hello? Can anyone help? Anyone?” His voice grew more and more frantic with every syllable, his entire body visibly shaking with each second that nobody came. “Somebody let me out, please, I need to fix this…” Patton tried to stand up, to go to Thomas, but his legs wouldn’t support his weight and he collapsed back down, back into V’s embrace. That was when he realized tears were still streaming down his face, and his breathing was still ragged. He didn’t know what to do now. His face was still wet with tears, his mind still spinning with leftover memories of guards surrounding him and chains and _ Remy, _but somehow none of it felt quite as important as it had a moment ago, before Thomas, sweet Thomas, had tried to offer him comfort and friendship and gotten a breakout as a result. 

“What’s going to happen now?” He choked out, clutching onto V’s shirt like a lifeline.

V still had his arms around him, so Patton couldn’t see his face when he replied, but he could feel the puff of air on his neck as he let out a breath.

“Honestly, Pat? I have no idea.” 

At the front of the cell, Thomas seemed to not even realize they were talking. He was still calling out through the open hatch, his voice quavering. “Please, is anyone else there? I’m sorry, I know I messed up, I didn’t mean to…” Thomas’ pleas were growing quieter, the urgency fading, replaced with defeat. Instead, he hung his head, dejected, hands reaching up to clasp miserably at the window bars. “I just wanted to help.”

The guard slowly looked back to Patton and V, who hadn’t moved from their spot on the ground. “All I wanted was to help…” he whispered. The hollowness in his eyes, the emptiness where there was normally a bright spark, sent a chill down Patton’s spine. He shivered. 

Suddenly, Thomas gasped and whirled back around, facing the window again, and the sound of footsteps approaching was heard. Someone was coming, but from their position on the floor Patton couldn’t see who it was. A moment later, Thomas stepped back as the door to the cell was opened, lightening the room and revealing a short guard Patton didn’t recognize, with dark hair and a friendly smirk.

“What happened here, Thomas? Didn’t think that shutting ourselves in was part of our training, or did I miss something?” The person said, a wry grin on their face. They hooked a ring of keys back onto their belt and patted Thomas’ shoulder good-naturedly. “You’re lucky I showed up instead of old Brantley.”

“Joan, this is serious, we’ve got a big problem. I really messed up. I need your help,” Thomas said, grasping their hands desperately. V pulled back from Patton, grinning weakly and giving a two-fingered salute up at the other guard- Joan- when they glanced in at the two of them.

“Oh, hey, V, long time no see,” Joan said, returning the gesture. “I’ve been on upstairs duty for a long time. And you must be Patton, nice to meet you. And…” Their face slowly went from joking to confused as they scanned the corners of the cell, clearly searching for something and not finding it.

“Hey, where’s-”

“That’s what I messed up. I… left the door open and he made a break for it. We have to go find him, now,” Thomas said, gripping onto their forearm. Joan’s eyes widened as the implications sank in.

“Gosh darn it, Thomas, I leave you alone for one shift and this is what happens?” As they spoke, they looked over their shoulder at the empty hallway. “Which way did he run?”

“I…” Thomas froze, mouth agape. “I don’t remember.” He let go of Joan’s hands, running his own through his hair as his breathing started to speed up. “I don’t remember, Joan!”

“You don’t? What do you mean, you don’t? Thomas, if we just run down in a random direction we could mess this up really bad, you gotta focus.” Their voice was firm, but Patton could see the concealed alarm in their face. “You need to tell me which way he went. This place is a labyrinth; he could be halfway across the whole complex by now, and if anyone sees him out we’re toast.” They paused, grimacing. “Well, technically I guess it’s just you that’s toast.”

“I’m sorry, I know, Joan, I’m sorry,” Thomas said, looking down both directions of the torchlit hallway. “I couldn’t really see what happened from where I was.”

“You mean inside the cell, right? What were you even-”

V cleared his throat, and both guards looked over to him, one with an expression of panic, and the other looking more worried.

“I couldn’t really see it either, but Patton saw which way he went,” he said briskly. “Ask him.” 

The silence was deafening as all attention in the cell shifted to him.

Patton’s already-strained heart skipped a beat. Three pairs of eyes were boring into him, expectantly awaiting an answer now, now, _ now. _He tried to envision the moment he had seen the man stand up and make a run for it, tried to picture the direction he sprinted after locking them in. But the harder he tried to remember, the more he focused on trying to recall, the fuzzier the memory became behind the emotions laced through it. The answer he needed kept slipping from his grasp, like it was a piece of melting winter ice he was trying to hold onto. He squeezed his eyes shut, vaguely feeling V place a hand on his shoulder. He opened them again, barely registering how pale Thomas’ face was getting with every passing second. 

After what felt like centuries of replaying the moment in his mind, the image snapped into focus. He watched the man race to the door, slam it shut, fumble the key in the lock, then turn and take off down the hallway-

“Left,” he gasped, gripping onto V’s arm. “He went left.”

As soon as the words were out, Thomas was gone, in pursuit of the runaway prisoner, without even pausing to say goodbye. Joan pulled the door closed, quickly taking a moment to lock it before calling a hasty “thanks, Pat” through the window and snapping the cover shut, leaving them alone in the semi-darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, two quick notes about this chapter:  
First: it (and the next one also, which is completely written) resisted me so much that I had to print out all my drafts and cut and glue them together to get everything to make sense. It was a rough couple of days.  
Second: Joan, like Thomas, was originally not supposed to be in this fic! That’s two real people who have waltzed into my fic and become guards without my permission. It’s fine, I love them and they’re staying.  



	7. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While they wait for word on the current situation, V and Patton talk, sort of.

“What do we do now?” V’s voice was hesitant, lost. It was even higher-pitched, making him sound incredibly childlike, eerily similar to the kids Patton used to wave to as they ran past his home. Even as he struggled to breathe, Patton felt a rush of guilt as he remembered, once again, just how young his cellmate really was. For all his prison know-how, snarky comments, and hard shell, he was still only a boy, not yet grown up. Patton chided himself; V shouldn’t have to be thinking about how to comfort a sobbing adult, or how to handle these sorts of scenarios. It was up to him to step up.

Now wasn’t the time to be crying over his past, as much as his heart hurt. Thinking about personal betrayals and friendships could wait. Now was the time to do what he knew best: Smile.

Except he couldn’t. His face refused to. Somewhere between his brain and his mouth, his heart was in the way. So he turned to the next best thing: Good old-fashioned consolation- or his best attempt at it.

“You know, I’m not sure if there’s really anything we can do. We are kinda stuck in here, after all.” He tried not to wince. His voice was off, his breathing still heavy, and it wasn’t the best way to word it, but it was enough to fool the other for now into thinking he was okay.

V sighed, flattening his bangs over his forehead with his hand. 

“Great. I get to sit here, doing nothing, while my friend is out there probably getting caught and tortured right about now.” He muttered, closing his eyes. “And I have no clue what’s happening to him, or where he is, or if he’s even _ alive _ …” He trailed off, looking over at Patton forlornly. “What if he’s… God, Pat, what am I supposed to _ do _? How am I supposed to… to…” He broke off again, unable to continue as his voice pitched up again.

Not for the first time, he felt his heart break for V. Patton opened his arms, leaning towards him in a silent offer. The smaller boy took it, allowing his arms to wrap around him again. Patton could feel him shaking, and he pulled him closer, one hand cradling his head and the other around his waist. V whimpered, clutching the back of his tunic in his fists as he buried his face into Patton’s chest. 

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay,” he whispered, praying his voice wouldn’t give out. “I’m sure Thomas will be fine. He’s smart, he can handle himself.”

He wasn’t sure, not at all. The lie pinched at his throat, sharp and cold.

V shook his head, mumbling something unintelligible. He still had his face hidden, still curled up close.

“What’d you say?” Patton rubbed his back comfortingly.

“...Anxiety,” V admitted, lifting his head up. His eyes were wide and scared, once again incredibly childlike. “About Thomas. I can’t… you don’t know if he'll be okay, and we really can’t help him, and there’s so many ways that it could go wrong… and I know I shouldn’t be so worried, but I can't help it, I can’t, Patton...” 

_ Oh, V... _

“I'm so sorry, I wish I could take that away from you,” Patton told him, barely above a whisper, voice thick with emotion as he started brushing the long bangs away from his face. “But remember, there’s nothing wrong with being worried about someone, or having anxiety, or even just feeling your emotions. They’re feelings, and you can’t control them, and they might not always make sense, and that’s okay. You never have to hide what you’re feeling from me. Never ever.” 

If saying that triggered a twinge of guilt in his chest, made him yearn for… something, he didn’t notice it.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, anything at all to help? Just say the word, kiddo.”

V shifted in his arms, but didn’t pull away. He ducked his head, a sheepish blush coloring his cheeks.

“Could we just, um, stay like this?” He asked, tightening his hug. “The contact helps, I guess. It’s okay if-“

“Of course we can,” Patton said, adjusting his position so that his legs wouldn’t go numb underneath him. “I’m here for you, whatever you need. Don’t be afraid to ask, alright?” He felt a small nod. Good.

He was definitely avoiding the steadily growing thoughts about how much he still felt the urge to cry. 

There was silence after that for a while, as Patton held the smaller boy in his arms. Here, with his arms around him, it was incredibly easy to feel and even count his ribs, even through his tunic. He frowned to himself; he would have to start insisting more on giving V portions of his meals. Sure, he himself might’ve been a bit underfed as it was, but the younger boy shouldn’t be this worryingly skinny. He’d been that way since before Patton got here, from what he could tell, if his memory of V’s absolutely skeletal hand was at all accurate. How long had V been in here, anyway? How long had he been starving?

Those questions made him wonder: Had he been like this even before? Somewhere out there, in a small village or the capital city, had a younger V, a tiny wisp of a child, all skin and bones, frolicked in the streets with his friends? Would he have _ had _ friends? Had he had enough to eat and simply remained thin, or did his family struggle just to keep everyone alive? In that moment, Patton realized, he knew next to nothing about the boy’s past. Not how he wound up in prison so young, not where he grew up, not what his family was like or if he had one. The problems V faced, the harsh people he might have met, the way he was raised, even his _ name _were all complete mysteries. Curiosity burned inside his chest, pleading to know more about this child he had so quickly come to care so deeply about.

But they were V’s mysteries to keep, Patton reminded himself. If he wanted to tell Patton, he would, but otherwise it was probably better for him not to ask. After all, he couldn’t handle talking about his own past, so who was he to pry into V’s?

V shifted then, surprising Patton and pulling him from his thoughts. Stretching, the boy muttered inaudibly as he removed his arms from around Patton and moved away briefly, before curling up half on Patton’s lap in a strikingly feline way, head resting on his arms. He even yawned, conjuring a mental image of imaginary cat ears flicking as he settled. The whole time, his eyes stayed closed, and Patton realized that V had been fast asleep the whole time.

“Aww…” he gasped, barely able to contain his giggles. Reaching out carefully, so he wouldn’t wake him up or startle him away, Patton stroked V’s hair off of where it had once again come to rest on his forehead. His face was so peaceful now, in sleep, compared to the heavy stress that had been written all over it before. His forehead was free of worried crinkles, his eyes were closed gently instead of squeezed shut, and his breathing was shallow and even. There was even a faint smile at the edge of his mouth that filled Patton’s heart with bubbles. 

The light in the cell was turning orange as the day moved towards sunset. There had been no sign of Thomas, or Joan, or the scarred man who had bolted. Their evening meal was probably coming soon, and news of what was going on would likely come with it, throwing them back into the cycle of worry and crying and anxiety. Deep down, there were still tightly packed bottles of memories and emotions jostling for space inside of him.

But those things would come later. For now, at least, Patton had a lapful of relaxed, sleeping V and a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! A little bit less plot happening this week, but still important to the overall story. And be prepared: next week’s chapter will be from a different character’s perspective! I wonder who it will be...?  
See you then!


	8. More New Appearances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman didn’t expect this to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost didn’t finish this one in time because I got sick halfway through, but I got it done! Yay!  
I might update the archive warning to include graphic descriptions of violence later. I don’t think it applies to this chapter, but it might in the future. Consider yourselves informed.

Never let it be said that Roman went down without a fight.

He had refused to give up on the idea of victory, even when his half-armored regiment was surrounded and vastly outnumbered by full-on knights in complete battle metal. Even when every single soldier under his command was a prisoner, in chains alongside him. Even when they were being marched through the dense forest towards the most notorious prison of the Old East. He had fought, thrown punches, kicked, bit, yelled obscenities, yanked against his bonds until his wrists were bloody and a knife was held to his throat. Nothing he had done had made any impact.

He rattled his shackles again where they held his hands behind him, ignoring the tired ache in his arms. On his next step, his foot came down at a punishing angle on the uneven ground, and a small sound of pain escaped him. Ahead of him, the knight escorting the next soldier turned around at the sound to glare down at him.

“Quit it, or I’ll-“

“Or you’ll what?” Roman challenged, smirking at the knight. “Take me prisoner? Chain me up? Throw me in prison, perhaps?” 

“Don’t talk back at me, scum,” the knight said harshly. “You’ll get what you deserve. Queen Emily has seen to it.” He swiftly faced forwards again, effectively cutting off Roman’s ready retort of choice words he would use to describe said tyrant-queen. 

As soon as the knight was no longer looking, Roman let his face fall, let his arms hang at his sides. He sighed, the exhaustion creeping into the breath. Glancing first past the knight, and then behind him, he saw all of his men, and women, and others, all in identical situations as him: Rows upon rows of brave soldiers, each with their kingdom’s patch upon their chest and their heads held high and proud. Even as they stood shackled and chained, their weapons held by the enemy. Pictures of bravery, all of them.

All of them, of course, except for the ones who weren’t there with them, who didn’t make it.

He had always known that death was a part of war, of rebellion. He had slain countless combatants himself in battle, and had long since made his peace with that. But watching his own fighters, his own friends, meet their untimely end upon the blade of a sword left him shaken and changed each time it happened. He had known every one of them by name. He had trained half of them himself, trained alongside the rest. They had laughed together around hastily made fires and in crowded tents, marched through blazing heat and bitter cold to reach the next battle, the next border. They had been a true team, a fighting force to be reckoned with, fueled by justice and intent to free their neighboring kingdom from its evil ruler.

But now, as the formidable dark prison came into view, tall and imposing, Roman couldn’t help but wonder if it had all really been worth it.

They were marched inside the gates, spread out wide in a long line to fit them all into the space outside of the building. After minutes of jostling and pushing from their captors, during which Roman proudly noticed many of his troops stomping on enemy feet, a sharp voice cut through them.

“Enough!”

Instantly, the knights all stood at attention, turning to face the entrance to the prison. Roman looked, too, even as a part of him yearned to hide his face. He might’ve been young, but as a successful battle captain, his face could potentially be very well known among the Old East.

A tall foreign captain stood in front of them, in full armor, the signature red fabric around his arm like a bloodstain on the silver. He wore a stern scowl as he swept his gaze over them, arms clasped behind his back and stance held wide and powerful. 

“How many did you capture?” His voice rang loud, sure. One of the knights in the line saluted, handing off the soldier he held to one of his compatriots as he did so.

“One hundred ninety-two, sir, almost a full command.” Roman winced at the number, thinking of the dead as the captain nodded. He seemed… satisfied?

“Ah, good. We’re much too over capacity to fit two hundred scoundrels, anyway. And this way, there are eight less of them corrupting our land.” Mild laughter and calls of agreement followed his words.

Roman felt his blood boil, the intense desire to run the arrogant bastard through burning in his stomach. His soldiers were brave and noble, dying hero’s deaths for their kingdom! Those were five men and three women whose bodies were languishing on the forest floor, left behind to rot! Eight incredible people who would never see their homeland or their loved ones ever again! And this man had the gall to call them corrupting scoundrels?

“How dare you?!” 

All eyes turned to him. He gulped; he hadn’t meant to yell that out loud. The stern captain marched up to where he was in the line, taking his time to survey him entirely. When he spoke, though his face was flat, his words were full of venom.

“Yes, how dare I want my home to be pure and clean? Free of insubordinate and meddling nuisances like you?” He looked down on Roman, clearly expecting to be seen as intimidating.

Roman spat at his feet.

“Every one of those dead had ten times more honor than you,” he whispered darkly. “They died fighting for what is right. You don’t deserve to even think about them.”

The flat expression shifted to fury. A swift hand rose and slapped Roman across the face, making him cry out in pain. The metal of the gauntlet cut through his skin, and he could feel warm blood dripping from the stinging wound. 

“Consider this extreme mercy,” the captain said, calmly flicking the blood from his hand. Roman would’ve spat at him a second time if not for the jolt of pain even trying to open his mouth caused.

Next to him, Roman heard his comrade Valerie speak up over the rattling of her chains as her knight fought to restrain her.

“Mercy?” She said indignantly. “You want to talk about mercy? Maybe we’ll show you the same _ mercy _when we-“ Roman looked over at them just in time to see the knight holding her slap his hand roughly over her mouth, effectively cutting off her words. The captain moved to stand in front of Valerie instead of him, making a point to focus his gaze on her chest as his eyes scraped over her. Roman bristled, the iron taste and heat of his own blood trickling into his mouth doing nothing to stifle his disgust for this man. 

The captain just scoffed at Valerie.

“Do all the womenfolk in the New East gallavant about pretending to be soldiers?” He asked as he methodically removed a gauntlet. His now-bare hand flashed into motion, ripping away the strip of cloth tying back her long hair. He leered at her, ignoring the murderous glares he was getting from not only Roman and Valerie, but all of their nearby comrades. “Look at that, she really is a girl! Are your men so weak that you resort to sending maids out with swords? Perhaps you’re lost, little wench, the brothel is miles away!”

Red flashed in front of his eyes. They both moved almost at the same time, shoving their shoulders forward as best they could to jostle him away. Valerie followed up with a well-aimed kick that had the man doubling over in pain, all trace of mockery erased from his face. Laughter erupted from the line of their comrades, accompanied by a few cheers as the two captive soldiers shared a terse nod. A brief shot of satisfaction filled Roman’s veins before the captain straightened up, his entire face bright red.

“Why aren’t her feet shackled?” He screamed, spit flying from his mouth. “Well? Answer me!”

Roman couldn’t see the knight who answered, several spots down the line, but he could clearly hear the hesitancy in his response.

“Um, we simply didn’t have enough to secure all of their feet, sir. After their hands, we were about forty short.”

The captain rounded on the unfortunate speaker, his whole appearance positively feral. Roman felt the knight holding him tense up, inadvertently pulling his shackles. 

The one who had spoken hastily went on, “There was nothing else we could’ve done, sir. Everything’s been in short supply with the over-capacity situation. We were worried we wouldn’t even have enough to restrain their hands!”

The captain sputtered for a moment, and Roman noticed the way his eyes flicked around the line of observing prisoners before settling back.

“Fine, then,” he said carefully, straightening his posture. The cold stare he fixed Valerie with sent chills of foreboding down Roman’s spine. “Just have her sent to Brantley. I’m sure he’ll take great pleasure in overseeing her punishment. Speaking of which, where is their captain? We’ll need to place him in high-sec extraction immediately.”

The blood that had previously boiled so angrily in his veins now froze. The captain continued, either unaware or ignoring the reaction his words were having on the soldiers. Specifically, on the requested captain.

Roman’s heart had completely dropped into his stomach. Extraction cells were where the Old Easterners conducted their torture, notorious for breaking even the most hardened of spies and secret-keepers. Anyone who went into one would be spilling any information they were asked to give within a day. And Roman had knowledge about the plans of his kingdom’s armies, about the direction of the war, about-

“I have the captain here, sir!”

The distant words pulled his out of his thoughts.

“Then bring him here, I say! I’ll take him to the extraction cell myself. I have orders to begin immediately, straight from the Queen.”

Roman stiffened, heart racing, preparing for the knight holding him to shove him forward, for the captain to march him to his doom. He braced himself, praying he would find the strength to resist betraying his king, his entire kingdom, even for a day. But the push he was expecting didn’t come. Instead, from the far side of the line of prisoners, emerged a single knight with a single prisoner. A single prisoner who had _ Roman’s patch sewn onto his shoulder. _

Shouts of protest flew, but as Roman listened to them, dumbstruck, he realized they weren’t even disputing that this fool actually had the captain! Instead, they were pained cries of “No!” And “Don’t touch him!” And “Captain!” What on earth was happening? He twisted his neck so he could look down at his shoulder, checking for the captain’s patch he had proudly attached there himself the day he was promoted: the wide shield emblazoned with an image of the sun. But all he saw, to his shock, was the vine-encrusted sword of a common foot soldier, hastily sewn on in a lopsided fashion. He gasped, snapping his head up as he desperately tried to see who the supposed ‘captain’ was.

He noticed this time that the patch was ever so slightly crooked, and placed on the man’s left shoulder instead of his right. Whoever it was had done it extremely hastily, and not even accurately at that. He was facing away from him, towards the knight at the front, preventing Roman from telling who he really was; who had taken his patch.

At least, until he spoke, all familiar sultry tones and sickening nonchalance.

“Captain R, reporting for duty.”

_ Remus. _

Roman didn’t think. 

“No!” He screamed, throwing himself toward his twin. Behind him his chains pulled taut, wrenching his shoulders back, digging into his already-bloodied wrists. He didn’t care. Didn’t have time to care. All that mattered was protecting his brother. His stinky, unconventional, sometimes revolting brother, yes, but his brother nevertheless. His identical twin Remus, who never backed down, whose thoughts were as unpredictable and potentially destructive as the weather. Who, for some inscrutable reason, was standing in Roman’s place, faked status on his shoulder, about to enter an Old East extraction chamber in his stead.

He was thrown to the ground hard, landing on his front with a gasp as all the air was knocked from him. The sound of clanking chains was muffled, drowned out by a great roaring in his ears. A shadow fell over him, and he felt soft hair tickling his ear. _ Valerie. _

“Shut up, you idiot, or you’ll blow everything,” she hissed right next to his ear, close enough that nobody else in the courtyard would be able to hear. Roman struggled to his feet, heedless of the heads turning his way and despite Valerie’s protests.

“That’s my brother!” He exclaimed, forcing his voice to carry. “I need to tell-“

“You need to use your head and think about why he’s taking your place, Captain!” She said, before being yanked roughly back into line. “There’s no other way!”

That was the moment all hell broke loose.

An unfamiliar voice suddenly screamed “Now!” The sound of clanging chains and the _ shk _ of swords being drawn surprised him, but everything else was gone when Roman felt the hands of the knight holding him fall away. 

It didn’t matter what the surprised yells and clashes of metal around him meant. Nobody was holding him back. 

He burst forward, breaking the line and running straight for his brother, thanking his lucky stars that his feet weren’t chained. The foreign captain had vanished, and Roman found himself standing next to his twin. With nobody trying to grab them, to force them apart. It was just him and his twin.

“Remus,” he choked out, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving your butt!” Remus said cheerfully, turning to look at him. “And all the rest of you, too, I guess.” The expression on his face made Roman pause. The ever-present mischievous twinkle in his eye was gone, despite the wide smile he still wore. The edges of his mouth wavered, and even his mustache seemed to droop.

I won’t let you-“

“Oh, but you will!” That was definitely not a normal smile. “I’ve already done it, and you didn’t even notice! So why don’t you take a look at the nice little insurgence going on while it lasts, watch the blood and all that, and then I’ll head off to my torture chamber where I belong. It’ll be fun!” 

Remus gestured to the rest of the courtyard with his shackled hands, and Roman saw the full state of chaos for the first time. Knights were engaged in full-out battle with their fellow knights, while others were scurrying around freeing Roman’s troops and returning their weapons. His soldiers were fighting back, alongside some of the foreign knights. Where the two brothers stood was a small island of stillness in the motion. For a moment, he felt hope flare up in his chest, until he looked closer. Only around a tenth of the Old East knights seemed to be helping, breaking chains and releasing captives, while the rest were still holding onto their prisoners and containing the situation.

The massive entrance was still firmly shut, and even as they watched the… rebels? Uprising knights? Whatever they were, they were falling. 

Whatever this was, it was hopeless.

“I won’t let you do this, Remus.” Roman focused his attention back on his brother, who was visibly shaking now, even as he twirled his mustache on a finger. “Extraction chambers…”

“Will be a fun new experience, I’m sure!” Remus’s voice was getting more wobbly, but his smile was wider than ever, practically splitting his face open, bordering on grotesque. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Make sure to tell the king what I did when you get back and we’ve won, okay?” 

Roman shook his head urgently. Time was running out, they would be grabbed soon, it would be too late, there was so much to say. 

“No, tell him yourself! I’m going in there, Remus. Whether you want me to or not, I refuse to live with myself knowing I let you _ die _for me!” He paused for breath as a horrid thought occurred to him. “Is that really what you want? To die?”

There was a pregnant pause as his twin gazed back at him, searching his eyes for some inscrutable thing. He seemed to find it.

His eyes widened infinitesimally, and then- 

Remus was _ crying. _

“I love you, Roman,” he sobbed, trying to wrap his arms around him while still chained. “I’m sorry, but you’re my brother, stupid as you are. I love you, you know that?” Tears stained Roman’s shoulder. His brother was full-on wailing now, broken and fragile. 

“I don’t want to die,” Remus whispered, gripping Roman’s shirt front. His heart stopped. The admission was low, raw; torn from a place it hadn’t wanted to leave. “I’m more scared than that time I got stabbed. Pain is only fun when you do it yourself. But you’re more important than me! You’ve got all the stuff in that oversized head of yours! And we’re identical! I don’t have a choice!” Roman did his best to hug him back, even as he shook his head against Remus’s words. 

“You don’t have to do this. We’ll tell them what you did, I’ll take what’s coming to me, and-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. He felt Remus tense against him, heard him gasp. He had no chance to turn around before he felt a heavy blow against his head and saw stars.

He dropped. His vision swam, colors bleeding together, shapes blurring. Was someone saying his name? He couldn’t quite tell…

A brush of sensation against his hand. A face he couldn’t make out, a pale blur kneeling over him, a shapeless shadow behind it. 

That was the last thing he saw before it all went black.


	9. A Reveal Of Sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton finds out something new about V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, next week’s chapter might be late. There’s an explanation in the end notes if you want it.
> 
> This chapter takes place directly following chapter 7 chronologically.

It wasn’t long before Patton heard a muffled clanking noise outside the door, waking V. The boy sat up, rubbing at his eyes as he looked around in confusion. The removal of his head from its place on Patton’s lap sent prickles up his numb legs.

“Sleep well?” He asked, ruffling V’s hair playfully.

“Yeah, actually,” He responded, halfheartedly waving his hand away. He ducked his head briefly, cheeks tinged with pink. “Thanks for… thanks.”

Patton’s heart melted, and the words “you’re welcome” were on the tip of his tongue when the meal slot opened. There was a second clank, louder than the previous one, followed by the sound of shuffling feet, and then a tray falling through. Neither of the two prisoners were fast enough to catch it in time all the way from the opposite wall. Patton winced at the ringing noise as the metal landed hard on stone. He slid the tray towards V, just in time for a second one to land right where the first had. Still, there were no voices to be heard outside from any guards. Apparently they wouldn’t be getting a trip to the bathroom that night.

Meals in hand, they retreated back to the far wall, where they usually ate. Patton surveyed his portion- even smaller than usual, he noticed worriedly- before picking up his hunk of dried meat and offering it to V.

“Here,” he said, “you could use some more. You look like you’re about to disappear into_ thin _air.” He tried to set the food on the other’s tray, but a hand blocked him. V shook his head firmly.

“No, Pat. I don’t need it,” he said. “Really. Also, that’s the best you could think of? Weak.” The tightness of his smile clued Patton in to the intentional attempt at dodging the subject. Normally, any other time, he would’ve backed down, not wanting to make V more uncomfortable. But when it came down to his health? He wasn’t going to let him brush it off.

“Please, V?” Patton implored, not giving in. “I’m really worried about you, you’re too skinny, even just a little bit extra would-“

“I really appreciate it, but I’ll be okay. Besides, you’re not exactly plump yourself,” he pointed out.

It was true. Patton had definitely lost weight since arriving at the prison, and he had developed a constant gnawing hunger that never really went away. But compared to V?

“Kiddo, you shouldn’t have to live like this,” he insisted, trying to give him the meat again. The light was nearly gone, but he could still see the tiredness in V’s face, the gaunt lines of his skin pulled too tightly against his cheekbones. 

“Look, Pat, I’ve managed with the stuff they’ve given me for seven years now. It’s not the best, but I’m still alive, so I don’t think I’m in danger of dying at this point.” V said it like it was no big deal, like he was just stating another fact. He even looked confused when Patton gasped and covered his mouth in shock. “What?”

Patton swallowed. Tried to talk. Tried again.

“S-seven years?”

V’s eyes widened. 

“Oh. _ Oh. _Crap. I mean, yes? I think that’s how long it’s been, Thomas does his best to keep track of time for me but he only got here recently, plus I’m not exactly sure when I first got here, so we kind of guessed. So, it could be more, could be less.” He bit his lip, eyes crinkling in discomfort. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you like that. Or… at all, if I’m being honest.”

Patton focused on breathing in and out for a moment, letting each breath settle before taking another.

“Kiddo,” he started, “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, exactly?” He had had his guess before, but now… somehow knowing felt more important.

V fiddled with the edge of his tunic, pulling and stretching the already-threadbare fabric. His eyes were closed, and his breaths seemed to be following a pattern: a breath in, a long hold, then a longer exhale. That meant he was anxious. Guilt stabbed through Patton’s chest.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. You don’t have to tell me unless you want to.” V shook his head, but didn’t open his eyes. A section of cloth ripped away in his grip.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he finally admitted, “because of how long it’s been, but I think…” he stopped. His eyes opened, and he looked Patton straight in the eyes. He suddenly looked so scared, like a spooked animal that could run away at any second. “I think I’m nineteen.” He said it like he was telling him how long he had left to live, like the reality of how long it had been was hitting him right then.

Patton was… not sure how to react. His guess hadn’t been far off, quite close in fact. But, even if he was technically a full adult, ready to be out in the world, here was a nineteen-year-old boy who had been in prison for _ seven years. _ And, since that meant he had somehow apparently committed high treason at the ripe old age of twelve- _ twelve!- _ V had had the entire last third of his childhood...

Stolen.

“I… V, kiddo… I don’t know…” Nothing felt like the right thing to say. Not ‘sorry,’ not ‘what?’, not even ‘that’s horrible’. All he could think about was a mental image of a twelve-year-old boy with bangs covering his eyes, standing petrified in front of the queen and being sentenced to life inside a prison cell. “That’s…” He shuddered, trying not to wonder what that must have been like. “That’s despicable, it’s so wrong, V,” he finally said, wanting to say so much more but not knowing the words. V pulled his knees into his chest and didn’t respond. _ Your fault, _ a familiar voice whispered in Patton’s mind. _ You did this to him. _

“What do you need right now?” He asked. “I’m sorry for… I don’t know, I’m sorry. Tell me, please, what can I do to help you?” The pleading tone in his voice sounded desperate, and maybe he was. All he knew was that he didn’t want V to stay huddled down like he was right then. He didn’t want him to succumb to his anxiety again, because of something Patton had tried to push him on.

It took several minutes for the boy to respond, quietly, still hugging his knees.

“Can we just… not talk about this right now? Change the subject, something? I wasn’t really prepared to deal with this right now.” He pulled on the same sleeve as before, fingers running over the newly frayed edge. Patton nodded vigorously, racking his brain. Anything to make up for it.

“Okay, we’ll do that. How about we think of some more stuff to ask Thomas the next time he-“ Too late, he realized his mistake. Fears and accusations came flooding, unbidden and unwelcome, into every corner of his mind. V looked up, a little ragged but concerned, as Patton pushed his back into the cold stones of the wall and tried to grip onto them, seeking a stability he suddenly no longer had.

Thomas hadn’t come that evening, and he wouldn’t be coming later. He probably wouldn’t be coming tomorrow, and maybe he wouldn’t ever. He was busy chasing after the mysterious third prisoner, who had only gotten out because of Patton’s meltdown. If anything happened to Thomas, if he never returned to them or to his life, it was nobody’s fault but his own! He hurt his friend! He slapped a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to contain a sob. 

“You need to snap out of it.”

He looked over at V, who had moved over to sit next to him, completely unnoticed, and now was gently putting his hand on his shoulder. The traces of his own worry were still written all over his face as he spoke. “I know I’m not exactly the best example of calm and collected, especially with just now, but I know what goes through your head when stuff like this happens. And I’m telling you, it’s not your fault, and there’s nothing we can really do right now. if you dwell on all the worst-case scenarios it’ll only make you feel worse. You have to just try to focus on something else, like we were trying to do with that subject change.”

Patton felt a tiny, shaky smile twitch his mouth. The stones felt a little more kind under his hands, the world a little less tilted.

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” V said wryly. He shifted closer to Patton and nudged his shoulder with his. “Doesn’t mean you don’t try.” He continued, leaning his head back against the wall. 

“Wow, since when did I become the kiddo and you became the parent?” Patton joked, smiling at V for real. He got a snort and a playful shove.

As time wore on, the very last of the faint sunset vanishing and soft moonlight shifting across the room, the two remaining prisoners in the cell did indeed turn to distraction to pass the time. 

“Hey, Pat? What was the name of that game we did, the one with the X’s and O’s?” V said out of the blue, his voice muffled by where his head lay on Patton’s shoulder.

“Hmm?” He said, looking down at the other. “You mean X’s and O’s?”

V shifted his face off Patton’s shoulder and moved to lay on his back, using his leg as a pillow instead. “Yeah, that one.”

“Did you want to play?” He asked, resting his hand on V’s head after a nod of confirmation and gently running his hand through his hair. “You know I’m no good at it, it won’t exactly be a challenge for you to win.”

V’s face split into a grin.

“That’s the whole point, Pops.”

Giggling, Patton moved V’s head off his lap and scooched himself over, closer to the corner, to the very edge of the lit section of floor. V had shown him the loose stone in the floor there that wasn’t actually a full stone, but rather a thin slab covering a rectangle of dry soil. It wasn’t much, and V didn’t like getting all the dust under his nails, but in the end it was more than worth it to be able to draw a board and play X’s and O’s.

As Patton sketched the lines, V joined him, sitting with his legs folded on the opposite side of their rectangle, facing him. He propped his head on his hand, smirking.

“Ready to lose?”

“As always!” 

V chose X’s and went first, as he usually did, and ended up winning ten games in a row, as he always did. The only time Patton had ever beaten him was the very first time they had played, before he even taught him the rules. 

After V slashed his eleventh triumphant line through his four X’s, Patton couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“My own son beats me!” He cried, his heart lighter than air. It was a perfect moment: V was relaxed and smiling, the cell was neither scorching or freezing, and he hadn’t thought about the troubles outside the whole time they were playing.

But instead of making a sarcastic quip about their close ages or moving to stand up, V’s face fell, just for a moment, his expression one Patton couldn’t decipher. He looked almost… confused? No, not confused. More like… wistful? Longing?

“Hey, something the matter?” He said, lowering his voice. “Did I say something wrong, kiddo?”

As quickly as the expression had appeared, it was gone, and V was smiling again. Was it his imagination, or did it look the tiniest bit forced?

“No, you’re good. I just…”

Patton leaned forward, ever so slightly. “Yeah?”

“...nothing,” finished V, looking away. “I guess, maybe, I like hearing you call me that, is all.”

“What, calling you my son?” 

“...Yeah.” 

His heart was going to overflow. It was going to overflow and explode, and he didn’t care one bit.

“Aww, V!” He squealed, cheeks stretching with his smile. “That’s so sweet! Can I hug you? I feel like this calls for a hug!”

V huffed a laugh, pushing himself to his feet.

“Alright, one hug.”

Patton scrambled to his feet and practically threw himself at V, squeezing his arms tight around him. He nearly gasped out loud at just how rail-thin the boy was, at how far around his arms could reach. He didn’t comment on it, not after what had happened before, but that didn’t stop him from holding him that little bit closer out of protective fatherly instinct.

A sudden muffled shout came from the other side of the cell door. Both of them immediately froze, before jumping apart and scrambling to back themselves against the far wall. A moment later, the window cover was snapped open to reveal Brantley, almost impossible to see but equally impossible to mistake, the whites of his eyes practically glowing as he glared daggers into the dark cell. He was panting for breath, the sound magnified in the silence from the prisoners.

Patton’s heart sank into his stomach. 

“You know,” V breathed into his ear, barely audible, “somehow I don’t think he’s here to take us to the bathroom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m taking a few days off writing, because my wrists and hands are starting to wear out from all the typing and writing I’ve been doing, so if next week comes late that’s the reason why. I’m still going to try my best to get it finished on time, but I can’t promise it will be. I’m sorry in advance about the uncertainty.


	10. no chapter this week

Hi y’all, I’m really sorry, but there’s no chapter this week. I took four days off of writing to let my wrists and hands recover, and then I had a color guard competition on Saturday that wrecked me all of Sunday. Between that and school, I just haven’t had the time to finish the next chapter. I’m so sorry about accidentally leaving you on a two-week cliffhanger, but hopefully next week’s chapter will make up for it. 


	11. A Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton discovers one of V’s secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is here! I’m not entirely sure how I feel about how it turned out, but at least I’m posting it. Thank you guys for being so understanding about last week’s lack of chapter, I hope this one was worth the wait. This is a big one, folks!  
I’d like to take a moment to say a sincere thank you to everyone who leaves comments after a chapter. Reading those always makes my day, and I’m so incredibly blown away that any of you like this thing I’m writing. Y’all are the best :)

Patton gulped, keeping his gaze just to the side of where Brantley’s face was framed in the open hatch. The enraged guard still hadn’t spoken, instead opting to stare them down menacingly with unblinking eyes. In the several minutes this had been going on- with Brantley keeping the two of them pinned against the wall with his glare, both unwilling to chance moving- Patton had noticed the distinct lack of lit torches on the wall behind Brantley’s head. The hallway beyond the open outer door was almost completely dark, the only light coming from the slit in the wall and some tiny, unseen dim light from the other side of the door.

He felt V move closer to him, almost imperceptibly. That small motion- just a fraction of an inch closer- was all it took to set off the cannon that was Brantley. He slammed his body against the robust door, ferociously gripping the bars of the window. He had an almost monstrous air about him as he spat his words at them.

“I know what you did,” he snarled, face contorted viciously beyond what was natural. V and Patton shared a confused look, which was apparently a mistake as Brantley screamed at them.

“DON’T TRY THIS INNOCENT ACT WITH ME!” The words themselves were almost lost in the sheer volume of the sound, slamming into their eardrums like a mallet on a drum. 

Patton’s heart was hammering against his ribs. The realization had struck him suddenly that Brantley had a key to the cell, which meant he could easily get to them if he got too angry. Those bellows could come closer. The heavy wooden door might as well not be there, for all the safety if provided them.

“I’ll bet you think you’re so clever, don’t you, little traitors,” continued Brantley. His hand reached up to grab at unkempt hair. A sliver of bright moonlight passed briefly over his face, the illumination revealing details on his face: bloodshot eyes with dark bags rivaling V’s, a streak of dirt on his cheek, deeper-set wrinkles than the last time he had come. His hair was a wild mess, sticking up in pointed tufts all over his head. The silver light glinted off of his exposed teeth, making him appear even more feral.

“Thought you could get away with it, but you were wrong.” He jabbed a finger through the window, and Patton swore he could feel it pressing into his ribs. “I caught your confederate! I caught your traitor friend!” He laughed then, a cackling, uneven sound that matched his disheveled appearance. “You won’t be seeing Foley around here anymore, that’s for sure!” 

Water he couldn’t feel flooded Patton’s ears. Brantley’s horrid voice faded away, replaced with his own racing pulse. If he could’ve spoken right then, through all the colliding screams in his head, he would’ve sworn to anything that the beating in his ears was speaking his friend’s name.

_ Thomas. Thomas. Thomas. _

_ They caught him. _

He reached out for V without even realizing he was doing it, and was met with already-searching hands. As he pulled the younger boy- man? He didn’t know anymore - into his arms, he felt his narrow body trembling, felt the way his chest expanded and contracted much too quickly. It brought his senses snapping back into focus. V needed him. He brushed the bangs away from his pale face, letting the other lean into him and hold on tight. V pressed himself close, nestled against him like a child with its mother. 

It took Patton a moment to register that Brantley had said something else to them. In fact, he had almost forgotten the guard was even there. But by the time he turned back, it was too late.

“LISTEN TO ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!” Brantley demanded, the syllables breaking apart with the amount of force behind them. 

Patton didn’t even think.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “He’s worried about Thomas. And so am I.”

Every human involved in the situation was silent. None of them moved. If was the first time either of the prisoners had talked back to Brantley since the day, seemingly an eternity ago, when he had hit Patton for defending Thomas. Every interaction they had had since then had been one-sided, the guard’s taunts and insults going unanswered. Even Patton himself was shocked by his action, holding his breath as he braced for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow.

After a tense moment, Brantley scoffed. He pushed a hand into his tangled hair, in a movement that was painfully similar to the familiar habit of Thomas’. It did nothing to smooth down the spikes, only highlighting his apparent exhaustion. 

Maybe, Patton considered, that was why he wasn’t being pummeled to death right now. It was the middle of the night, after all.

“She’s really got you wrapped around her finger, hasn’t she?” Brantley said. “Figures that traitors like you would go for broken goods. All you’ll ever have.” 

Patton’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of that. V’s anxious motions stopped.

“Who’s she? I haven’t seen any women guards yet,” he asked. “Are you talking about your boss, or…?

A part of his brain was completely panicking over every word he said, but another part was apparently doing the talking.

“What? You must be out of your mind! A woman, in charge of me? This isn’t the heretic’s land! I’m talking about _ her! _” He pointed in, right at Patton and V.

“But… there’s no one else in here, just me and V, and we’re both men,” Patton said hesitantly. Was Brantley so sleep-deprived he was delirious?

A tug on his sleeve. He looked down at V, who was staring up at him, eyes wide with terror and tears threatening to spill over. The boy shook his head, pulling on his sleeve again.

“Please don’t,” he pleaded. “Please, Patton, please…”

At the door, Brantley’s mouth fell open in a gape, his tone incredulous. “What, are you blind?” He disappeared for a moment, then reappeared holding a small, flickering lamp. Patton held up a hand against the brightness, and the guard laughed in disbelief. He made a motion with the lamp into the cell, gesturing at V, who pushed himself away towards the corner and huddled into a ball against the light. Brantley bared his teeth, disgust dripping from his words. “_ He _ is a _ she!” _

Patton turned to V. His mind was struggling to figure out what was going on. 

“Kiddo, what is he talking about?” He asked. _ He is a she, he is a she… what does it mean? _

V was sobbing. Full-on, uncontrollable sobbing. He had his face buried in his arms, and his entire body was heaving with the force of it. 

Patton edged his way slowly towards the corner where the- boy? Man? Something else? He wasn’t sure anymore- was. When he was still several feet away, he stopped and whispered for permission to come closer. As he did so, he heard footfalls from outside the door, and saw someone approach Brantley out of the corner of his eye. Was that a sigh he heard? 

He stopped, keeping a careful eye on V, who hadn’t responded to his question, while listening to the conversation going on outside.

“What is it now?” Brantley sounded… weary. Like he hadn’t slept in days. Maybe he hadn’t.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but Samson is still with the group sent to capture the New East soldiers. Avery sent me to ask you to take his extraction shift on prisoner 020318.”

A sudden, heavy thump of the door being kicked made both prisoners jump, and V whimpered. Patton desperately wanted to comfort him (Her? He still wasn’t quite sure what this whole thing meant, or what Brantley had been trying to say), but he wouldn’t go any further when V was this vulnerable and hadn’t said he could.

“I’ll be back, little traitors,” came Brantley’s voice. He didn’t look his way, choosing instead to watch over his kiddo. “As soon as I’m through talking to your cellmate. He’s been spinning us a neat web of lies, that one. Men like him remind me why I became a guard.”

And with that, the horrid man was gone with the messenger, leaving the two prisoners alone in the cell.

After a long moment of silence, except for V’s continued crying, Patton had to say something.

“...What did he mean?” He asked, making sure to keep his voice soft. 

Then V lifted his head. His eyes were already red, his face wet with still-flowing tears, his lip trembling. Thin arms were wrapped across his chest, bony hands gripping onto his elbows to tightly it looked painful. When he spoke, his voice was higher pitched.

“H-he meant, he meant…” 

Patton settled onto his knees and offered his hand. V didn’t take it.

“God, this isn’t how I wanted to tell you…” He swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “I didn’t think… because I’m stupid. I’m so stupid…” He pressed the heels of his hands onto his eyes. “Why did he have to do this?”

“Kiddo, I’m still really confused,” Patton admitted. His hands itched to hug the other. “What are you talking about? What didn’t you want to tell me like this?”

V looked away, avoiding his eyes. Breathed. “You don’t have to tell me, if it makes you too anxious.”

“No, I was going to tell you soon,” he insisted. “I never wanted you to find out like this.” He scratched his fingers along the stones, head lowered, hunched over facing the wall. Everything about his body language screamed _ I am uncomfortable. _“I’m a man, but I have a woman’s body. Everyone else sees me as a she, but that’s not who I am.” He paused. “That’s why I’m in here.”

Patton wasn’t sure what he had been expecting.

But that certainly wasn’t it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, show of hands, who saw that one coming?  
Originally, this reveal was supposed to happen several chapters ago, but I decided to move it back. I hope it still works with the flow of the story, because I didn’t feel comfortable putting it any later.  
Thanks again to you all for reading, you guys are seriously awesome.


	12. not a chapter, here’s what’s going on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some things are going to be changing, I’ll explain

Hi everyone. I’d like to start off by saying I’m sorry right off the bat, but there’s not going to be a chapter this week. It’s technically written, but it’s really important for the characters going forward, and right now it’s just not nearly as good as I’d like it to be. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for this, especially since there was just a week’s wait, but I don’t want to force myself to post an unpolished chapter.

In addition to that, I’m not going to be holding to the every Wednesday update schedule anymore. I knew from the start it would be tough, but manageable. Since then, however, a lot of things in my personal life lately have made some of my mental and physical issues worse than they were before, and as much as I’d like to, I won’t be able to write full chapters as regularly. It’s harder to dedicate myself to this one project, or anything really, especially when the deadlines make it feel bad to my panic-y brain. I’ll still be writing, and I’m not going to give up on this fic ever, but the way things are right now it’s pushing me further into the not-okay headspace.

TL;DR the update schedule is going away for now, but chapters will still be coming and the next one should be up soon. Thank you all so much for your support on this fic, you guys are always amazing.


	13. A Talk and A Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Virgil’s outing. Roman makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, it’s been a hot second! Hope you’re all doing well! Really excited to be able to finally post a chapter again, Roman decided he wanted to be in this one and had me rewrite the entire second half after I had it finished. So that happened. But enough with my excuses, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Patton struggled to find words, any words, to voice just how confused he was after V’s revelation. A man, with a woman’s body? How did that happen? _ Could _that even happen? After a few frantic moments of drawn-out silence, he came up empty-handed

“Are you going to say anything?” V said flatly. He still couldn’t give voice to his jumbled thoughts. How did he move his tongue again? 

“I- um, uh…” That didn’t feel right, those weren’t words.

“I know it seems wrong.” The… man? In the corner turned to look at him. His face was tear-stained, but his eyes were clear. Every muscle was tensed, like he was ready to either stand his ground or flee at a moment’s notice. “And I don’t expect you to be okay with me. You don’t have to pretend to keep caring about me or anything. It’s fine, I’m used to it. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” He turned away again, and that closing off felt like a knife in Patton’s chest. “If I were you, I’d hate me too.”

Oh, right, that was how you talked. He remembered now.

“Why would I hate you?” He said, surprised. V scoffed.

“Take your pick. Either I’m a delusional heretic who wants to go against nature, not to mention Queen Crazy, a traitorous wo-“ V stumbled over the word, pausing to collect himself (herself? How did this work?). “A traitorous _ woman _who just wants to force her way into a world I don’t belong in, or I’m a liar who tricked you into seeing me as ‘something I’m not’.” The words were practically dripping venom, spoken with the practiced tone of someone who had heard them too many times. “I'd rather not hear all of it coming from you, so I’d appreciate it if you’d spare me the spiel about how I deserve everything that’s happened to me.” 

A surge of protectiveness pulsed in Patton’s chest as the image of Brantley telling a teenage V he somehow _ deserved _this prison life popped into his head.

“I don’t hate you, V! I could never hate you. And I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong.” He could hear the younger boy’s snort of disbelief at that, and he continued on, more insistent. “Well, at the very least, nothing to deserve prison! I might not know anything about… um, this,” he motioned vaguely with his hands, having no idea what to call the present situation, “But it can’t be all that bad, can it? Whether you’re really a woman or not, no matter what, you’re still my kiddo! And the kiddo I know would never do something so bad to deserve a life sentence. I don’t hate you, and I’ll never want to hate you. I just want to help you, understand you, that’s all.”

“...What?”

He looked so lost, so scared, when he risked a glance over at Patton. His whole demeanor had shifted from defensiveness to uncertainty. Tears still trailed down his cheeks, and his eyes were crinkled where they had been pulled into intense focus only moments before. 

“We don’t have to talk about it right now, if you don’t want to, but whenever you’re ready… I’m not going to hate you. I promise. This can wait as long as you need it to.” He chanced moving a little closer. “All I ask is that you be patient with me, whenever you do want to talk about it. I’m not exactly familiar with this situation here. But I really do just want to understand.”

“That’s a first,” V whispered, shuffling around until he was fully facing Patton. Even though he was technically the taller of the two, the way the younger boy was curled up combined with the baggy clothes and tearstained cheeks made him look eerily like the small, terrified adolescent he would’ve been his first day in the prison. 

His heart was hurting for V, an almost physical pain in his chest. 

“Can you tell me what you want to do right now?” 

“I… I want-“ V covered his mouth, an aborted sob slipping past his fingers.

“Yes?” Patton prompted gently. V’s shaky hand lowered back to grip his knees. He took a breath.

“A hug?” 

His heart leapt. That, he knew how to handle. He eagerly closed the distance between them and pulled him close, holding him tight. V was trembling. Patton stroked his hair, murmuring a soft “it’s alright” as he held him, rocking gently back and forth. He might not know exactly what all this meant, or what to think, but nothing in the world would stop him from hugging his kiddo. And that was one area he was an expert in.

“What do you need now?” He whispered. V took a shaking breath as he pulled away from the embrace.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, the words gone soft and thin. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Patton assured him, offering his biggest smile. “We’re not in a rush, if you need to keep sitting there for a bit until you can think of something else, then that’s what we’ll do.”

V slowly nodded, rubbing the ends of his sleeves between his fingers. This time, Patton noticed, the fabric wasn’t ripping.

It was late, the cell was dark, and neither of the two prisoners had slept. The hours of emotional and physical exhaustion were taking their toll. Together, the two of them eventually slumped against the wall, the taller resting his head on the shorter’s shoulder. As the first rays of sun began to creep through the tiny window, they slowly drifted off into sleep, a father and a son.

* * *

When Roman came to, the first thing he felt was the rough drag of his heels against stone as he was pulled along by his arms. The sensation of his head splitting with explosive pain was second. 

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggled to remember what was going on. The incessant throbbing of his skull pounded into his brain, scattering his thoughts. He couldn’t concentrate. He had been with… he grimaced against another spike that chased away the memory. _ Damn those guards! _Only Old Eastern soldiers would resort to blows to the head. 

Old Eastern soldiers… Was he-

“Hey, someone’s awake. Think we should make him walk?” Roman tensed involuntarily at the cold voice from behind his head. He yelped as one of his arms was yanked, twisting unnaturally at his shoulder. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s awake. About time, too, my back’s been killing me,” answered a second voice. Both sounded male, and both sounded bored.

“Alright, up you go,” muttered the first voice. Roman was pulled upward, nails digging into his wrists, and he hastened to get his feet underneath him. Right as he did so, a shooting pain fired through his head. He stumbled, unbalanced, and tipped forward onto his hands and knees. 

“Oh, come on…” A rough grip yanked his back to his feet. He finally looked up and found that his surroundings were dark, blurry, and spinning. At least one of those was probably from his head… he was so dizzy...

How had he gotten hit again?

“Start walking, you buffoon, cell’s this way.”

A cell? Cell… a prison cell! He was in a prison! His whole regiment had been captured, and Remus… Reality snapped back into focus, revealing a long, dark hallway, and he ignored the nasty headache lurking in his forehead as he whirled around to face the owners of the two voices. They appeared to be two men, one sporting a long beard and the other clean-shaven, but both wearing the same neutral expression. They were also less than put-together, Roman couldn’t help but notice. Their armor was dirty and scraped, and the sword that the bearded one idly waved in his direction was dull under the torchlight.

“Get to it, now,” he ordered. “Doesn’t have to be complicated.” As he spoke, his companion moved to stand behind Roman, cutting off his only possible escape. Without any weapons, or decent armor, he saw no other choice. Grudgingly, he started walking, following the bearded guard. They passed torch after torch, door after door, again and again down the corridor. Every so often the way would split off into two, leading them further and further into the belly of the beast. 

The longer the endless hallways went on, the more restless Roman became. His twin’s last expression was burned onto his eyes, returning every time he blinked. The memory stirred a coil of anger deep in his stomach, and he glared silently at the guard in front of him. 

He was going to find Remus, he decided. He would run, right now, past this man, down the labyrinth and never stop until he had his brother. They could free the rest of his troops, they could return to their kingdom, they could-

“Hey, now, let’s take it easy.” Cold hands gripped his arms from behind, and colder metal closed around his wrists. When had he clenched his fists? “We all saw you back there, buddy, you’re not going anywhere.” The second guard sounded pleased with himself. 

“Couple others in your group tried to make a break for it, too,” said the one with a beard, casually meeting Roman’s eyes over his shoulder. “That’s one patriotic bunch you’ve got for comrades, I’ll give you that. Are New Easterners all that way?”

Roman was too busy fuming and plotting to answer. His mind was stuck on the fact that somewhere, inside _ this prison, _his twin brother was being tortured in his place for information that he didn’t know. It wasn’t right, he wouldn’t let it happen, and he certainly wouldn’t let a couple of bumbling guards get in his way. They could shackle him, they could knock him out, they could bury him alive in the deepest depths of this purgatory and it wouldn’t make a difference.

After all, twins always stuck together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Kiddo’ is a gender-neutral term and that is a Facthood.  
I’m sure you’ve all picked up on this right now, but the two most important parts of this fic are characters hugging and crying. That’s the evil plot behind this whole thing, to make the bois give each other hugs and cry all their feelings.


	14. Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other people in the prison aren’t doing too well. Roman joins the cell gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from quarantine to bring you this chapter*  
Hey guys!  
Funny story, turns out I accidentally used Sanders as both Patton and Thomas’ last names, so Thomas’ last name is now Foley (just so y’all don’t get confused).  
This chapter was a doozy to write, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out.  
Just a heads up, there is some description of torture and that mindset in this chapter, check out that updated archive warning folks just in case ^  
I hope you’re all healthy and safe, remember to wash your hands and stay inside  
—-

He completely regretted running.

He had been so sure that memorizing the twists and turns of the passages would be enough to get him out. Stupid, he saw now. Naive. Just because he knew where to go to get out didn’t mean he actually could. Guard shifts, torch placement, potential hidden passageways: all unknowns that he should have taken into account. Hell, he hadn’t even been sure what time of day it was! And how had he been planning to make it over the outer wall? What was his route once he escaped, back into the kingdom?

It was all so poorly thought out. He was better than this. 

And yet, he had still made a break for it the second he saw that door tantalizingly open, the keys left behind as the idiot guard abandoned his post. That man should’ve been better than that, too. He had always thought of empathy as a weakness, and there was his proof. That guard would be getting time in an extraction cell as punishment, he was sure. Almost definitely being fired, and potentially even executed. Queen Emily was nothing if not vicious. And all that pain just to comfort a soft prisoner? Risking his job, his life, to settle his conscience? What sort of sense did that make, in this world of selfishness and survival?

He didn’t have the energy to think about him anymore. He had to focus on himself. It was the only way he had survived this long, after all.

But he wasn’t sure he would be surviving much longer in this prison. Pain was blurring his thoughts, dulling his perceptions, draining his life. He never cried out, never vocalized the agony, but his hold on himself was slipping. Reality had only ever seemed so far away once before.

_ “You shouldn’t have tried to run.” _

He didn’t know if he was in a dark prison or in a damp cellar. 

_ “You’d be better off dead.” _

He wasn’t sure if the thought came from his own mind or from a whisper in his ear. 

When a brand burned into his side, he couldn’t tell if the man holding it wore a pristine guard’s uniform or soiled rags.

Blood dripped down his exposed fingers, and he couldn’t say how far it fell.

_ “You’re _ nothing _ to me, you damn bastard!” _

Oh.

He knew where those words came from.

* * *

Patton and V looked up in unison when the cell door creaked open. 

Both of them had been awake for some time, but neither had wanted to move from where they had fallen asleep, leaning against each other in mutual support. Even the sun seemed to be lingering near the horizon, sending bright beams onto the opposite wall. 

But time moved forward, whether the cell’s inhabitants wanted it to or not. And now, they watched and listened as two guards practically dragged a dark-haired man wearing an unfamiliar uniform in. As they did, one gave a quick nod towards the open door, and it was pulled closed by a third guard. The dark-haired man shouted wordlessly, frustrated, and Patton unconsciously tightened his grip around V: this new man had arms thick with muscle and a wide, solid build, making for a terrifying figure. He looked like he could crush either of them in his fist if he really wanted to. He was struggling, wrenching himself this way and that, but with the heavy cuffs on his wrists and the two guards holding him there wasn’t much he could do. 

“Hey, do you mind?” One of the guards grunted, pulling one of the man’s massive arms towards the wall opposite where Patton and V sat. “We’ve got more of your guys to move, you know.”

“I do mind, actually,” the stranger growled, his voice rough. As he did, the second guard let go with one arm- Patton felt his heart drop in fear- and reached to the wall, feeling around for something. A second later, his hand came forward, gripping a single thick cuff attached to a chain. 

“On three,” he said to the other. That only made the big man struggle more, and they barely managed to hold him as the guard holding the cuff counted down. In rapid succession, the two guards unlocked his shackles and let them drop to the ground, clapped the lone cuff onto his wrist, and dashed for the door. 

“NO!” 

Patton felt V flinch at the desperate yell. The dark-haired man strained towards the cell’s exit, but was only able to gain a foot or two before he was abruptly stopped by the shackle’s chain, evidently attached to the wall. As the guard outside the cell opened it to let out the two, harsh lamplight spilled over the prisoner’s face, fully illuminating his deep glare. The orange created a spark in his eyes, lighting them on fire to match his expression. Together with the early-morning light from the window, he looked eerily powerful and dangerous. 

“You can’t hold me forever,” he swore. “I’ll find a way out of here! I’ll find a way, and I’ll save-“

“Aw, save your monologues for your new cell mates,” called one of the guards. “You’ll be seeing a lot of each other, so try turning a friendly face, yeah?” 

The other two laughed, and with that, they started to close the heavy door. 

“Good will always triumph over evil.” If Patton hadn’t been watching and seen his lips move, he wouldn’t have noticed that the new man had said anything at all. The words were spoken quietly, softly; so different from the loud declarations only a moment before. 

The guards, however, seemed to have no trouble hearing him.

“Evil? Now there’s a dreamer!” The bearded face of one of the guards appeared in the door’s barred window. “Sorry to break it to you, buddy, but that isn’t how this works. There’s no good or evil in real life. So you just sit there and behave yourself, and maybe you’ll get that chain off in a few weeks once we know you won’t attack us.”

The click of the key in the lock was unnaturally loud. All three guards left, their footsteps clearly audible until one turned back to cover the door’s opening.

Silence.

“Well,” sighed the new man after a tense minute. “That wasn’t how I hoped that would go.” He turned his gaze onto Patton and V, a sheepish half smile on his face. “I’m Roman.”

* * *

“Ooh, that’s a sharp knife,” Remus said. The tall man holding said sharp knife scoffed, but didn’t respond. “Can I hold it?” Remus tried, making grabby motions with his hands as best he could. Being strapped to a table made it a challenge.

“No, you can’t. Now, unless you’re telling us where your men got through the border, shut up. Talking makes it worse.” 

“Gee, you’re one tough nut to crack, aren’t you?”

“I said shut up!”

The knife blurred as it slashed through the air, as well as Remus’ arm. He yelled in surprise, looking down to see a long, deep cut from his shoulder down to his elbow.

“Hey, that hurt,” he said, racing to think of a joke through the sharp sting down his whole arm. 

“That’s the whole point.” 

* * *

Well, the man had done his job.

Remus did hurt.

_ Hurt _wasn’t nearly vivid enough of a word, not for what he was going through, but boy did he hurt. Pain was as constant as breathing- except not, because sometimes they didn’t let him breathe. They’d force his face into water and hold him under until he breathed it in, only to yank him back up by the hair. They’d pile rocks and metal plates on his chest until he couldn’t inhale anymore and his organs felt like they were being squeezed out of his body. They’d leave him locked for hours, maybe even days on end, in the dark, windowless cell, letting all the air go stale until he was sweating and gasping, and not in the fun way.

And those were just the breathing forms of torture. The _ tame _ones. The others… Well.

He couldn’t talk anymore. He had spent what felt like an endless eternity screaming. Now, his voice was gone. It was a terrifying and unfamiliar experience. The razor scrape in his throat never went away, never got any better. Like the rest of the hurt, it just was. 

He had been whipped, cut, bruised, burned within inches of his life, and then much more. The Old Easterners had tried being nice, tried yelling at him, tried torturing him in complete silence. When nothing they tried got him to tell them what they wanted to hear, they redoubled their efforts. His infinite well of quippy, disturbing, rude humor had long since dried up. 

On any normal day, he would be having a laugh at the very idea of any of those things. Probably draping himself all over his compatriots on a revelry night, a half-empty bottle in hand, elbowing Roman in the ribs and making him squirm. He’d envision those scenarios in vivid, glorious detail, drunk both on wine and relentless curiosity. 

Well, everyone had always told him how curiosity killed the cat. Maybe he should’ve listened, instead of insisting that a knife would be a lot easier. Who could know?

Well, now he did. And, for the first time in his life, Remus didn’t want to know more.

* * *

The screams made them fidgety. 

Even being near the extraction cells always set them on edge. Besides serving as a convenient reminder of where they lived- tyrannical Old East, hey ho, we still torture people on a regular basis- it made them more aware of their secret, of the fact that if anyone else in the prison- what the hell, if anyone in the entire damn _ kingdom- _knew who they really were, they’d be inside one of those cells in the blink of an eye. Especially now, with Thomas being punished. Joan sighed to themself. He had always been sensitive and empathetic, which made him such a good friend, but this was a whole other level. It made them want to simultaneously congratulate him and smack him upside the head.

Joan had helped him search for the escaped prisoner, but before they could find him he had been caught by another guard. The man had dragged Thomas down with him, and claimed the two of them had been working together. After that, nobody would even listen to the other side of the story. Joan had done their best to try and save him, but once Brantley got involved there was no chance.

_ “I KNEW YOU WERE A TRAITOR, FOLEY!” _

_ “S-sir, I promise I didn’t, if you’d let me explain-“ _

_ “I’M NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR EXCUSES!” _

_ Brantley swung a ferocious punch, putting practically his whole body into the motion. He hit Thomas straight in the nose, with enough force to knock him down. Joan winced; there was no way that wasn’t broken. When he sat back up, hand cradled over his face, blood dripped between his fingers. _

_ “Brantley,” Thomas groaned, voice strained, “I was trying to help-“ _

_ “HELP HIM ESCAPE, I'M AWARE OF THAT!” He strode forward and kicked him in the stomach. A heavy rush of breath left Thomas’ mouth, and he collapsed once again, gasping. One of the other guards flinched. “I should never have let you start here, Foley.” His voice had taken on a quieter, darker tone, and when Brantley kicked him again, and Joan’s hands squeezed into fists as they heard a distinct crack. “You’re no servant of the queen, you’re just a New East puppet. You deserve exactly what they all deserve.” He suddenly straightened up, pointing to Joan, and they quickly uncurled their fists. _

_ “Stokes, how many empty extracts do we have?” _

_ Their pulse spiked. This was the middle ground option, then. _

_ They pulled out one of the many scrolls from the bag at their feet. Unrolling it, they skimmed over the numbers until arriving at the one in question. _

_ “Eleven, sir,” they said, unable to avoid looking at their friend, limp on the ground. _

_ “Make it ten. I want Foley in there for a week, two if we can spare it. I won’t tolerate traitors in my prison.” He turned back to Thomas, looking down his nose at him. He gave him one last kick, almost as an afterthought, and spat at him for good measure. Thomas didn’t even react. _

_ Turning on his heel, Brantley nodded at Joan before stalking away, a scornful look on his face. _

_ Anger burned inside them, but they knew there was nothing they could do to help. They didn’t have the clearance to access the extraction chambers without a higher-up, and nobody besides Thomas could be trusted in this prison. _

Now, as they walked past that section of cells, their feet moved faster of their own free will. They could almost hear Brantley, obnoxious as ever, bellowing demands at some helpless prisoner. It might’ve been Thomas.

Hell, if they weren’t careful, it could be Joan themself.

Someone really needed to kick that slimy bastard in the head.


	15. An Unintentional Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman meets his new cellmates, and accidentally takes things too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *tries to write Roman getting along nicely with Pat and V for a slower break of a chapter*  
Roman, an idiot trying his best who accidentally overlooks boundaries: how about no
> 
> Edit: Looking back, I realized that this chapter especially, but sort of the story in general, has police brutality/abuse of authority themes in it, which was not intentional on my part and just sort of happened without realizing. That element is pretty darn directly addressed in this chapter, so if that’s a trigger of yours, please be careful.

“I’m Roman.”

Roman had thought he knew what to expect with his new cell mates. He had been expecting angry, no-good criminals, who he’d have to defend himself from. After all, what other kinds of people would be in a proper prison? Instead, he seemed to be sharing this tiny space with two surprisingly young and scared-looking people. They were both covered in dust and grime, and shockingly thin, from what he could see of them, which admittedly wasn’t all that much. One of them had their arms wrapped protectively around the other, almost intentionally shielding them from view, and they sat curled together like a pair of kittens in a basket, hanging on for dear life.

All in all, he wouldn’t peg either of them as the hardened criminal type.

“Can you understand me?” He asked them once the silence started to drag on. 

The one holding the other nodded, eyes wide with fear.

“Hi, Roman,” They squeaked out. “It’s nice to meet you?” 

The person they had their arms wrapped around, dressed in all dark clothing, elbowed them in the ribs. When they spoke, it was in a whisper that Roman could nevertheless still hear: the cell was rather small.

“Why’d you say it like that?”

The first one’s response was in an equally quiet whisper. 

“Sorry, kiddo, just a little freaked out is all.”

It suddenly dawned on him what this must look like from their perspective: a large, strange man being shoved in here with them, fighting like a rabid animal to avoid being chained up. Add that to how relatively young these two seemed to be, and you had a recipe for scaring your harmless-looking new cellmates half to death.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” he told them, lowering his voice. “I have absolutely no intentions to hurt you two. You don’t exactly look like ruthless villains to me.”

“...We’re not,” said the first one. They opened their mouth again, and started to say something else, before changing it to a tentative “Aren’t you?”

Surprised, he couldn’t help it: he laughed. It seemed to startle the one he had been talking to, as they pressed back into the wall, taking the other one with them. Seeing that, he tried his best to rein in the bouts of laughter as he spoke.

“Sorry, there really is no need to be frightened. Me? A villain? Over my dead body! No, I’m a soldier! About as law-abiding as it gets.”

“If that’s supposed to be some kind of joke, it’s not funny.” Roman paused, not expecting that.

It was the second one who had spoken that time, the one being held. They both looked young, the older one right about his own age, but this person seemed significantly closer to actual childhood, in a way that was almost unsettling given the circumstances. 

“It wasn’t a joke,” Roman said. He tilted his head. “Why would it be?”

“Because soldiers don’t care about the law? Because everyone knows they abuse their power?” They said it like they were stating the obvious, explaining some basic piece of knowledge. It grated against his pride in a way he didn’t like.

“Actually, in the New East, where I’m from-“

“You’re from the _New East? _” Said the dark one incredulously. 

“Yes, I am,” he confirmed. “And there are lots of additional laws that soldiers and guards all have to follow. We don’t get exceptions of any kind. And we all…” His brother’s laugh popped into his head, bringing a sharp pain with it. He swallowed. “...well, almost all of us value our honor above all else.” 

“Really?” The first one asked, mystified.

“Really,” he confirmed. A realization occurred to him. “Speaking of which, forgive me for not asking sooner, but what are your names and pronouns? If you don’t mind, that is.”

The two of them seemed to have opposite reactions to his question. The older one visibly relaxed, but seemed a little confused, while the younger one tensed up, expression hard. It was the former who spoke first.

“My name’s Patton. You can call me Pat, if you want. I’m sorry I thought you were a criminal.” 

“I’m not surprised you did,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I thought you two were as well.” He looked to the younger one of the two. “What about you? What name do you go by?”

They shifted uncomfortably, voice thick with distrust. “V. My name is V.”

“Just V?” He checked. V nodded. “Alright then, V it is.” He looked between the two of them, one then the other. “Pronouns, anyone?”

“What’s a pronoun?” Said Patton.

If Roman had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out in surprise. “You don’t know what a pronoun is?”

“He’s asking whether you’re a man or a woman, Pat,” said V one tersely. “That’s what a pronoun means. That’s what he wants to know.”

Interesting.

“Oh, okay! I’m a man,” said Patton. Roman shook his head. It had been awhile since he had encountered any Old Eastern civilians.

“No, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m not asking what gender you are- and in any case, that’s not just man or woman. I meant what pronouns you like to be referred to as. You know, he, she, they?”

Patton tilted his head in confusion. “They?”

“Tell you what, I’ll tell you all about how gender works some other time. For now, I’d like to ask…” He turned to the younger of the two prisoners, who was now pushing aside Patton’s embrace and crossing their arms over their chest. “I couldn’t help but notice, you seem very defensive all of a sudden. Any particular reason why?” He had to word his question carefully. If his intuition was right, he had no idea how much V had told Patton.

“Nothing you get to know about,” V said harshly. “You literally came in here about five minutes ago acting like some crazy person, I’m not going to spill all my secrets to you because you can talk nice.”

That stung more than he expected. He bristled, digging his nails into the stone floor.

“So you admit you are hiding something?” He pushed. V glared daggers at him, making the atrociously thin prisoner look almost intimidating. Patton placed a hand hesitantly on their shoulder, and V was in motion instantly, jerking away from the touch and shooting to their feet.

“Don’t,” they gritted out. Pat backed away, raising his hands in surrender. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking slightly. “That was… I’m sorry.”

“It’s not you, Pat.” 

“There’s only three of us in here,” Roman said, rising slowly to his feet. His shackles clanked against stone, but he barely registered their weight. “You can just say what you mean, I’m not an idiot, you know.”

“Oh, really?” V crossed the empty middle of the cell, moving towards him until they were toe-to-toe. Roman was at least a full head taller than them, but they showed no sign of fear. “You must be a brilliant actor, then, because you had me completely convinced.”

“Well, I’m sorry, forgive me for trying to be considerate of you both!” He took a step forward, making the other retreat as he advanced until the chains yanked him sharply back. V recovered, standing their ground again.

“By prying into my personal life? Did a real great job with that one, didn’t you? Guess the honorable New East has never heard of minding your own business, huh?”

“You really have the gall to insult my kingdom-“ his enraged comeback was cut off by a shaky voice.

“Guys, please! You don’t have to argue, maybe we should all try to calm down?”

“_ Stay out of this!” _Both of them yelled at the same time. Patton closed his mouth, putting his hands up in surrender. Neither of the angry men noticed the shine in his eyes. The battle continued.

“What gives you the right to ask about my secrets?” V practically hissed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just wanted to know-“

“You don’t get to know! I decide who I tell things!”

Roman threw his hands up in frustration, volume climbing.

“Obviously! I wasn’t trying to-“

“Well, you did!”

“Are you going to let me finish a sentence before you tell me how evil I am?” He yelled.

“I-“

Whatever V was going to say was abruptly cut off by the sharp sound of the cell door’s hatch being unlocked. It swung fully open and smacked against the wood, revealing a dark-haired guard frowning in at them through the bars. With the new target, Roman’s mood immediately shifted from defensive indignation to something else: righteous anger.

The guard dragged a hand exhaustedly down their face.

“Am I interrupting something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarification on a previous chapter: When Joan was first introduced I used their correct pronouns when referring to them, even while in Patton’s perspective, because I don’t feel comfortable intentionally misgendering a real person, even for a fic. However, as seen in this chapter, Patton does not know about the full spectrum of gender and that sort of thing. So if you noticed that and were confused, I hope this clears things up.


	16. A Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan makes a quick visit to the cell. We spend a brief moment with Remus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I’ve gone through and added some stuff to this chapter, I’m a lot happier with it than I was before!

The minute Patton saw that it was none other than Thomas’ friend Joan who opened up the window hatch, he felt a massive flood of relief at knowing they were safe. Of course, the fact that Thomas himself was… not safe was lurking in the back of his mind, but this was some consolation. 

He knew he had to say something quick. If the look on Roman’s face was anything to go by, another round of threats and fighting and who knew what else was just on the horizon. And he really, really wanted to avoid that.

From the back of the cell, he piped up, voice purposefully louder than was strictly necessary.

“Joan! I’m glad you’re alright, how are you doing?”

Since he was behind Roman, he was able to see as the tension in his body relaxed by a hair. His heart rate immediately settled down.

“Who’s this Joan?” Roman’s question was laced with suspicion, but not nearly as edged or angry as before.

“A guard, but don’t worry, Joan’s nice.” As if accepting the compliment, Joan gave a short nod.

“Thanks for that, Pat.” 

V gave an awkward sort of salute as a greeting, and received a halfhearted wave in return. They stifled a yawn, and it was only then Patton noticed the heavy dark circles underneath Joan’s eyes, and the mess of matted hair on their head.

“You don’t look too good, kiddo. You doing okay?” He asked worriedly, moving in closer to the door in order to get a better look. They shrugged.

“Doing about as well as anyone can in this place,” Joan said wryly. “It’s been a long couple of days. But what the hell are you three up to? I could hear voices through the inner door, which is no small thing, let me tell you.” They eyed Roman suspiciously. “Do I need to pull anyone out?”

“Oh, that?” Patton said nervously. “Well, that was, um,” he looked guiltily back at V, unsure of how to answer. “that was-“

“That was arguing,” V said for him. “Guess we got a little carried away. But it’s not a problem.” From the way his shoulders hunched and his eyes flicked to Roman, Patton figured it actually was a problem.

Joan shrugged. “Hey, as long as you don’t kill each other. I can’t actually separate you guys anyway, since we’re bursting at the seams as is. And if you could keep it down, that’d be pretty great too. Brantley’s on edge enough, no need to make any of our lives more miserable by ticking him off.” Their face hardened. “Not that he doesn’t totally deserve it, mind you. Idiot bastard.”

“Who’s Brantley?” Roman asked. Unlike V, who still seemed to harbor leftover anger, he sounded calm again, without a trace of the defensive venom of before. Joan turned to him, and he could see recognition on their face.

“Hey, you’re that guy who tried to save your captain. Latest batch from the New East, right? I heard about you guys out in the courtyard, even saw a bit too. Not the brightest move, but you know, good job trying.” They ran a hand through their hair and yawned again. “Must be nice.”

“What do you mean by that?” Roman asked. Strangely, it looked like his eyes were wet, as if he were holding back tears.

“Having a loyal group like that to watch your back,” Joan replied. “You know, an actual team? That’s what you all looked like out there. And one of the soldiers apparently kicked Brantley right where it hurts. That takes a crap ton of guts, I’ll tell you that.”

“Again, I have to ask: Who is this Brantley?” Roman’s repeated question had Patton shifting uncomfortably. Even the thought of the man in question made him want to grab V and squish far against the back wall.

Joan chuckled awkwardly to themself. “Whoops. Sorry, I’ve had a really long day. Brantley is the head captain here. He’s basically everyone’s commanding officer, and he’s also the worst person you’ll ever meet. I don’t think anyone cares about him except for a couple of his best buddies at the top, not even his parents.”

Normally, for anyone else, Patton would’ve chimed in with some kind of defense, no matter how timid and halfhearted, about how everyone had good in them and deserved kindness. But after hearing from V the kinds of things Brantley did, and knowing firsthand the kind of person he was… even he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

“I see,” said Roman bitterly. “A false soldier, then.”

“A real one, actually.” V’s comment was quiet, but his glare was loud.

“Can we not get into this now…” Patton tried. He was unsuccessful.

“How dare you!?”

“I call it like it is.”

“It is not!”

As they fell right back into their argument, Joan made eye contact with Patton and pointed at the two men questioningly. Patton answered with a head shake, and Joan nodded, waving goodbye as they quietly shut the hatch.

* * *

Remus had no idea how long he’d been in this hell. It was impossible to tell if it was day or night, and his grasp on reality was starting to slip. On the rare occasions he was allowed to sleep, he would wake from dreams that were only sometimes better than reality.

In one he was trapped in a simple pit of snakes, and in another his limbs stretched out miles long. Those were almost like relief. But there were also dreams where Roman appeared in the cell, laughed in his face, and left him to the guards. He dreamed that he almost escaped the prison entirely, smashing through solid walls like they were made of parchment, before the whole building cane crashing down on top of him and buried him alive. In the worst one of all, he cracked and confessed his own lie, begging for his brother to have to be tortured instead. 

As time became more and more subjective, and more and more of the things he always joked about became his reality, Remus realized something that had him feeling disgusted for the first time in many years.

A tiny, selfish part of him, deep down, regretted sacrificing himself for his brother.


	17. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton does some reflecting. V and Roman fight, again. A checkin with someone we haven’t seen for a few chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! That new episode really was something else, wasn’t it? There’s a spoiler for Putting Others First at the end of this chapter if you haven’t seen it, so you have been warned.
> 
> Oof, this chapter got long after some revamping... enjoy the 2.4k
> 
> Content warning: In the small scene at the end of this chapter, there is a brief moment that could be interpreted as suicidal ideation, I don’t think it’s too bad but I’m letting y’all know just in case.

Patton was getting tired, in more ways than one. He was physically exhausted: the sun had set hours ago, and his head felt like it was filled up with cotton. It was a struggle just to keep his eyes open. But the reason he hadn’t fallen asleep yet was the second way he was tired. 

Roman and V had been pestering each other, very loudly, for what felt like hours. Every time he thought the two had finally worn themselves out, he would breathe a sigh of relief and curl up to rest, only to be pulled back awake abruptly by another round of insults and offended noises. He couldn’t even tell what they were fighting over anymore.

Facing away from them, towards the wall, he couldn’t see anything but the faint outlines between the stones. Maybe if he covered his ears, it would be like the cell was empty and quiet… Trying it out, he put his hands over his ears to find that it helped some, but not enough to lull him into sleep. He sighed. Bright side, bright side, now, Patton.

Well, at least he had good company in the first place. Bickering might’ve been a tad inconvenient, sure, but he was locked up in prison, after all. It was incredibly lucky for him that V was a harmless misunderstood shadowling who would never hurt him. He was convinced that, had anyone else been his first cellmate, Patton wouldn’t have lasted a week. It was just as lucky for both of them that Roman was honorable and nice. Nice for the most part, at least, but nobody was perfect. A typical prisoner with Roman’s strength would have almost certainly attacked the both of them, and considering how malnourished they were, it would’ve been impossible for them to put up any kind of resistance. 

The realization that he very well could’ve been dead, had things worked out a little differently, sent a shiver down his spine. He was still alive through dumb luck, and nothing else. This prison might’ve killed him his first day here.

His last thought before he finally drifted off, once the two warring voices dropped away into sleep themselves, would not be remembered the next morning. Given how exhausted Patton was, it wasn’t all that surprising. But if he had the choice, he would’ve chosen to keep the memory of himself thinking, seemingly out of nowhere:

_All because I trusted Remy. _

——

Dawn had barely pushed through their tiny window when Roman woke up. Something felt off immediately, but he remained still as he looked around, not wanting to wake either of his cellmates. Nothing seemed to be out of place: There was Patton, asleep against the wall, and there was V, tucked into the corner where they had settled down to sulk the night before. 

“Is there a problem?” V said, and Roman startled. He hadn’t realized they were awake. About to respond, he moved to sit up.

And that was when he felt it. His uniform was filled with sharp-edged grit, itching and scratching like a nest of ants. He yelled, shooting bolt upright, and even more dust fell into his face from the top of his head. Trying to shake out the front of his shirt didn’t help, and he stood up, gray particles cascading down from his clothes and his head. A quick check through it told him his hair was coated in the stuff, and his hand came away the same shade as the walls and floor. 

His eyes settled on the sloppily sewn patch on his shoulder. The lopsided sword was barely visible, only the outline distinguishable amongst the grime. Fire rushed through his veins.

“How. Dare. You.” Roman practically growled, pinning V to the wall with his glare. “Sullying a man’s emblem? Have you no sense of honor at all?! Do you even have any idea how long this is going to itch for!?”

“I do, actually. A couple days, four if you’re really unlucky.” V smirked, holding up their hands to reveal fingers stained gray and nails cracked from scratching up dust. “I’ve had a couple problems with it, too, over the years. Not fun.”

By then, Roman could see Patton stirring out of the corner of his eye. It did nothing to stop him from lunging towards V, a handful of dust in his fist, intent on returning the cursed itch and its patriotism-erasing qualities to its sender.

“Hey!” They protested, throwing their hands up, panic in their eyes. “Wait!”

“No!” Patton cried, stepping fully in between V and Roman. He tried to shove Roman back, but didn’t succeed. Instead, Pat faced him fully, arms braced against the walls, lodging V completely into the corner and blocking them from sight. Seeing that made him feel almost guilty, but he pressed on.

“Patton, what are you doing? Move! Don’t you see what they did to me?” He cried. Despite his fervent desire to get V back, he refused to lay hands on Patton.

“Yes, I see that. I’m really sorry, Roman. He shouldn’t have done that. But hurting him back isn’t going to fix anything, and we’re probably all really scared and angry and tired and everything else, so let’s wait until we’re all calmed down to deal with this, okay? Please, let’s not fight. We’re the only ones in here.”

He had a point. Perspective slammed into him, and Roman hesitated, rocks trickling between his fingers. He was torn between apologizing for his blatant overstepping and trying to defend himself in the pettiest way possible.

But it was V who spoke first, a mix of guilt and frustration written on his face. “Sorry, Pat. I guess you’re right,” he said.

“Thanks, kiddo, but I’m not the one you need to say sorry to.”

V slid down the corner, crossing his arms and scowling. “Fine. You know what? I’m sorry, Roman. I shouldn’t have dumped dirt on you, even though you totally deserved it.”

“Wha- that doesn’t count as an apology!” Roman sputtered. Patton placed his hands on his shoulders and pushed, gently, more of a suggestion that anything else. 

Grumbling, Roman obliged, taking a few steps back from the corner. 

“There we go, see? Let’s all take a deep breath. I can help you shake out the worst of the dust so it’s not as bad. And I’m sure if Joan comes around again, we could get you a quick rinse. It’s all going to be fine.”

He was incredibly tempted to question that, but ultimately decided not to. Patton was too kindhearted for Roman to even consider biting back.

“Whatever you say,” he said, trying not to sound petulant. Looking over Patton’s shoulder, he locked eyes with V. “Truce?”

V said nothing.

“Kiddo? How does a truce with Roman sound?” Patton coaxed.

That got him to talk. “As long as he leaves me the heck alone, I’m happy.”

“Fine by me,” Roman muttered sullenly as he crossed the cell and claimed the opposite corner for himself. “I wouldn’t want to disturb the mysterious V any further.”

As the two opposing cellmates intently set to work on ignoring each other’s existence, Patton was left as the nervous middle ground between them. He spent the rest of the morning at Roman’s side, helping him remove his gray-covered shirt and shake out as much of the dust as possible. While he didn’t ask any more questions or try to strike up a conversation, his mere presence was strangely comforting. Without thinking about it or meaning to, Roman started to slip into a different state of mind.

He was no longer sitting on the cold floor of an Old Eastern prison cell, beating dust out of his soiled uniform. The walls became trees, the stones of the floor packed dirt and grass. It was almost like Patton was one of his men, riding wordlessly alongside him on horseback. No words were exchanged when they moved through enemy territory, but simply knowing his comrades were there was what made the long, silent days bearable. Another person, right there next to you, watching your back.

The thought, while soothing, made him come too close to remembering where Remus was. If he let himself linger in the past, he’d get stuck in the worst part of the present. Shaking his head, he dispelled the vibrant mental image and stared miserably at the blank wall.

————-

One of the guards had uttered the phrase “last day”. Those two words had promptly pulled Janus out of a memory that smelled of blood, one he was quite glad to no longer be reliving. If the guard could tell, he didn’t say anything.

He could think of only two possibilities of what that phrase, “last day”, meant. One, he had endured his own personal hell of pain and recall and pain long enough, and was about to be returned to the prison regular. Two, he was going to be put out of his misery permanently.

Considering the two had him more lucid than he’d felt since he entered. One way or another, soon, the torture would be over. He could finally leave his past, and all its paralyzing effects, in the dark where it belonged, far away from him. 

Whether or not he’d continue existing, of course, was not up to him. But at the very least, even if he paid for his reckless decision to attempt to flee with his life, he’d finally be fre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Development: The ships for this story have been finalized! I won’t tag them until they’re made clear in the story, since this isn’t a ship focused fic, but know they are no longer up in the air.


	18. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton finally thinks back on everything he’s lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter was supposed to be a lighter one, kind of a reprieve from the constant angst that is this story, but... apparently even when I set out to write a nice chapter for this fic it ends up being incredibly angsty. Whoops!
> 
> While I’m here, I wanted to take a minute to say a massive thank you to all of you reading this fic. I’m blown away by how many of you seem to really like this thing I write, and it’s honestly way past anything I ever expected. You all are the best.

As Patton sat at Roman’s side, keeping him company through the long day and gladly putting up with dust under his nails, he began to reflect on what his life had become. For over two decades, he had lived in the same small, cozy village he grew up in. Even when his mother and father moved on, Patton had stayed. Life had been simple and sweet, days filled with the same seemingly mundane tasks and routines that made him happy nevertheless. It had always been the little things in life that made him smile and appreciate it the most. 

Now, for the first time, he truly considered what being trapped in prison for the rest of his life really meant.

He might live for another twenty years inside here, maybe even thirty. Thirty years of the same four walls and one window slit, of sitting in corners and occasionally getting to walk through the halls in chains. The thought made something shrivel up inside of him; that part that was still thinking about watching the village children play back home and tending his little garden every day. Those memories had become too painful to think about once he got arrested; the idea that he would never see anything familiar ever again was like a knife to the heart. Now, it was like being punched in the stomach: it hurt, but he could survive it.

Still, he hadn’t gotten to think about his humble cottage or his garden or the people he had known in weeks, and the memories that came with them hurt more than he expected. Did his neighbors notice his absence? Had someone else moved into his empty home? Was anyone taking care of his beloved raspberry plant, now that he wasn’t there to tend to it and prune it? Were his flowers wilting with no one to water them? What about the children that used to come to him when they played?

He didn’t notice he was crying silently until V crouched down in front of him. 

“Pat,” he murmured, “you have to breathe.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roman straighten up, and the next thing he knew his hand was being held.

“If you want to talk about it, we’re here to listen,” he said, his voice gentle. “We’re here for you.”

Looking back and forth between Roman and V, he saw the same earnest expression on both of their faces. Concern mixed with resolve. Not a single hint of exasperation, or boredom, or anger. The makeshift dam holding back all his emotions couldn’t stand up to that, and it broke, every repressed tear and scream flooding over him in one giant wave, and suddenly he couldn’t hold himself together anymore. 

“I miss my home. I want to go _home!” _A broken sob wrenched itself from his throat, and his eyes stung with salty drops, but before he could fully process that he had started breaking down, Roman was wrapping him securely in a lifesaving hug. 

Patton immediately decided, right then and there, that Roman gave the best hugs.

“That’s right, just let it out.” Roman’s voice was soothing, tone calm and sure, like he handled emotionally distraught cellmates crying into his shoulder every day. “We’re here.” As if to confirm, V tentatively patted him on the head. The soft, timid touch brought back more thoughts: flashes of small arms latching onto his legs like playful barnacles and sweet little faces smiling up at him. He couldn’t contain a wail as he reached out for V, every instinct in him needing his son in his arms.

_Son? _A small voice questioned in the back of his mind.

_Yes, my son. _Not for the first time, he could feel that familiar urge to protect and shelter building inside him. Nothing could ever hurt V, because Patton _needed _to keep him safe.

Pulling away from Roman just enough to embrace V, Patton held him close, pushing aside the tiny voice’s doubts. He couldn’t tell if V was trembling, too, or if it was only him. All he knew was that Roman’s hand was a comforting warmth against his back, keeping him steady as he shuddered and sobbed, and that holding his new son, knowing he was here and secure in Patton’s grasp, was staving off the darkness. 

“V,” he choked out, tears still flowing freely. “V, I’m sorry.” 

What he was apologizing for, he didn’t know. But he seemed to understand.

“It’s okay. You’ve done more than enough.”

——

It wasn’t until later, hours later, that the well of emotions finally began to run dry. Patton’s shudders were replaced with shivering, his frantic gulps of air with manageable gasps. He could think again, somewhat, and feel more than the warm arms around him. There was the cold of the cell, seeping through his clothes. There was the rough stone of the floor under his knees. 

After minutes of calming his breathing, Patton reluctantly pulled away from both V and Roman, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes in an attempt to block the last of the tears. He sniffed, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat.

“I have- I used to have an orange tree back home,” he croaked, wiping at his eyes. He hadn’t planned to say anything, but as long as he stared at the ground instead of their faces, he could hold it together. Something inside him needed to say it. “It was my favorite of the trees I had. It wasn’t a big one, and it grew in crooked, but I always thought it was really cute. I remember trying to climb it a few times as a kid to get the fruit.” He paused, considering laughing all this off and pretending he was okay again. Talking about everything he missed was hurting already; maybe it would be easier for everyone if-

“Go on,” said V encouragingly. “What else about the tree?” His tone was entranced, and when Patton snuck a glance over at him, he saw that he was rubbing his sleeve between his fingers again, eyes distant with imagining.

“Well,” Patton went on, wiping away a stray tear, “anytime there was fruit I used to pick all the oranges and give them to the kiddos who played near where I lived. There was a whole group of them, the same nineteen who always played together, and they all loved those tiny oranges more than anything else. Biggest smiles you’ve ever seen anytime I brought a basket out.” The corners of his mouth lifted of their own volition, and he could picture their giddy faces in his mind’s eye. “Seeing that always made my day. I would look forward to them running by the whole morning, just so I could come outside for five minutes and give them those oranges.”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Roman sincerely. “Did you ever eat any yourself?” 

Patton shook his head. “Not really. They tasted fine, but I mostly liked letting the kids have them. And some of them were poorer and didn’t have as much to eat at home, so I’d give them a few extras each.”

V took notice of that, seeming to perk up. “You noticed that sort of thing?”

“Well, of course I did! I saw all of them almost every day for years, it would’ve been harder not to notice. The whole pack sort of became my kids after a little while, I’ve known most of them since they were babies. I did my best to make sure they had food, since I had my trees and bushes and things.”

It occurred to him then that if V had been one of those kids, he never would’ve gotten as dangerously thin as he was. Patton would’ve fed him all the bread and fruit he could spare.

“What were their names?” Asked Roman. “You said they were almost like your kids, right?”

“Yep!” Patton was starting to feel unexpectedly cheerful now, the misery dissipating like an empty thunder cloud. “The oldest one’s Richard, he’s ten; and he has a younger sister named Lucy who doesn’t like raspberries, so I give her radishes in the summer instead. Sophia loves cherries, and her father runs an apothecary and lets me pay in fruit sometimes. There's also little Georgie, he’s the baby of the bunch…”

If any of the three prisoners noticed the shift from past to present tense, none of them showed it. They stayed together, sitting facing each other in a loose triangle, as Patton recalled every detail of his past life as he could possibly remember. Somewhere along the way, Roman’s hand found Patton’s again, and V ended up having his hand held by Patton as well. After a few minutes of holding both of their hands, Patton paused in his cathartic retellings to nod at the empty air between Roman and V.

Hesitantly, they connected the loop, earning a fond smile from Patton before he went on as if nothing had happened.

And that was how they remained for hours: an innocent father working through his fondest memories of his lost life, holding the hands of both his newfound son and his newfound friend, and the two somewhat-rivals temporarily putting aside their arguments to complete the picture.

It was the closest thing to real, genuine happiness that had ever occurred inside of any prison in all the Old East.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am aware that orange trees are not at all historically accurate for non-rich people in this time period... I’m mostly referencing Patton’s playlist, shhhh don’t tell anyone


	19. So some stuff has come up, I gotta explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read this, it’s important.

Hey, everyone. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to do this, especially now, since there’s important plot coming up, but I’m sort of taking a step back from this fic. And by that, I don’t mean I’m abandoning this, not by a long shot.

Upon rereading to fact check some details I needed to remind myself of, I’ve noticed several continuity errors and things I’m generally dissatisfied with in some chapters, especially some of the more recent ones. If you’ve been following this fic for a little bit, you might have noticed that updates have been coming roughly every two weeks, and sometimes sooner. That’s because even though I stopped having an update schedule, ever since quarantine started I’ve been holding myself to a strict two-week limit between chapters, and forcing myself to finish each one within that time frame. I tend to write slowly, and have many projects going at once, so between that and this two-week deadline, I wasn’t able to put nearly as much care or attention into each chapter as I wanted to or should have. There are character beats that feel forced or missing, and overall I’m not satisfied with a good portion of the recent story. 

I’ve decided to allow myself to go back and polish up some of the interactions and moments from previous chapters that aren’t what they should be. In addition, I’m going to take some time off of writing new chapters to properly map out the story and character arcs as a whole. So far, I’ve had a general idea of where this fic is going to end up, but each chapter is written without a clear plan in mind. I want to change that, but it’s definitely going to take some time.

Basically, I can’t guarantee when the next chapter will be or how regular updates will be after that. I’m very sorry to disappoint, but I want this story to be better than it is right now, and that means changing how I approach it. I’m sorry this ran a bit long, but I felt like all of you who read this fic are entitled to an explanation as to what’s going to be happening. I appreciate all of you, and I hope you’re doing well.


	20. A Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another look at Janus. Roman makes a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hey, everyone! We’re back!
> 
> So it’s been a little while, but there’s finally another chapter! The fic has been reworked some, I’m going to be revamping the tags soon, and I’ve got the story better planned out! I can’t thank you all enough for your patience and understanding about the wait, and I hope you like this newest chapter.
> 
> By the way, since I did end up adding a fair amount of scenes and changing some things, I’d recommend re-reading chapters 15-18.

Janus drifted in and out of awareness, picking up on various stimuli. A loud clang of metal. Dimming and brightening lights. Muttered conversation, pieces of phrases.

“...take him… where to put… out of space…”

He couldn’t make sense of much of it, but he noticed when someone gripped him by the arms and lifted him up. The cold metal beneath him was suddenly gone, and in his semi-conscious state, the change scared him. Trying to move but failing, he groaned in protest as he felt himself being carried away from… where was he, again? Remembering was a chore, and he quickly abandoned the task. 

Someone started to speak, right next to him. 

“Do you think they went too far with him?”

From his other side, a different voice in response.

“What do you mean?” They seemed to be ignoring Janus, which suited him fine. Talking would’ve required a clear head anyway, which he certainly didn’t have. He couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open or not.

“I mean, just look at him. He might not even be sane anymore, and all because he tried to run? Seems a little overboard, if you ask me.”

“Woah, be quiet! If Brantley catches you saying that-“

“I know, I know, but I mean it! Why do we waste our time torturing runaways when we’ve got more important things to do? Extraction cells take up too much space anyway, how often do we use them, really?”

“Ever since the captain got here, a lot. And you’ll be in one of them if you don’t shut up real quick.”

“But we’re swamped as it is-“

“For Emily’s sake, man, stop talking! You’re walking the line of treason, and I don’t want to have to turn you in.”

“Okay, okay. You’re right. I guess I’m just tired.”

“Good. Now hurry up, or we’ll be behind schedule.”

“Right.”

After that, it was quiet, and Janus started noticing the way his feet were dragging along the ground. It was uncomfortable, with his bare feet scraping along the uneven stones and his toes getting caught in the cracks. He tried to lift them up off the ground, but couldn’t get them to stay in the air for very long.

What had they done to him? 

The longer that question sat in his head, the more lucid he became, and the more he realized he didn’t actually know. Blinking, the world around him slowly came into focus. His head weighed heavy on his shoulders, and he could only see the ground in front of him, but he could tell the guards were taking him through the network of torch-lined halls. They were navigating confidently at every branching intersection, turning without pause or discussion.

What he wouldn’t give to have that ability. 

But what was he being taken _ from? _It was nagging at him, the recollection of what he must have just gone through, but no matter what he did he couldn’t call up the memories. All he had was himself running through an open cell door, and then nothing. Nothing, despite the fact that he had clearly been through an ordeal, based off of what the guards had been chatting about.

Now that he thought about it, where was he being taken to? If he had no clue where he was coming from, surely he had some idea where he was going, at least?

He didn’t know.

* * *

Patton hadn’t expected their emotional circle to last forever. After all, even if Roman and V had both wanted to stay there with him, there was still a thick tension that hung in the air between them, made of raised voices and broken tears. It made sense that V retreated back to his corner, head turned away so as not to see Roman. 

But it didn’t mean it hurt any less, seeing V alone like that. And it didn’t make the distrust in the air any less suffocating. He could practically see it weighing on V’s shoulders, slumping him down and dragging Roman with him. 

Later, following a smaller meal than usual, his kiddo had nodded off into sleep underneath the thin blanket, lying on his side facing the wall. Even from his spot next to Roman, he could tell V was shivering: the action all the more worrying considering that the sun hadn’t yet set and the cell wasn’t cold.

“You really care a lot about V, don’t you?”

Patton startled, not expecting Roman to say something. The other man was gazing at him from where he sat, head tilted slightly to the side, as if trying to figure him out. 

“Well, of course I do,” Patton answered, turning his body so he was facing Roman. “He’s my kiddo. How could I not care about him?”

Roman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re their- his father?” 

“Oh- oh, no, that’s not what I meant!” Patton hurried to say, flustered, putting his hands out in front of him. He just _ knew _his face was turning red. “I’m not related to him, I didn’t mean it… in that way.” If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was now. “I think of him sort of like he’s my son. I want to make sure that he’s safe, and that nothing can hurt him.” He found himself looking back over to V; felt his mouth pulling into a fond smile. “I just want him to be happy, you know? Be there for him when he needs someone.”

Roman shuffled a little closer, slowly, so as not to rattle his chains too much. When he stopped, the space between them couldn’t have been more than a foot. “How long have you known him? How’d you meet?” He asked, glancing over at V as well.

“Didn’t you hear what V said before? He kinda explained it by mistake,” Patton said, remembering V’s tearful rant.

“I know.” Roman shifted his position. “I’d like to hear it from you, though.”

“It’s...However long I’ve been in this prison,” Patton said, allowing his mind to drift back. “He was already in the cell when I got… thrown in.” The memory hurt, but its impact was muted- softened by the effect of their earlier circle, and cushioned by the presence of his cellmate. “Poor kiddo was in here much longer than I’ve been, and he decided to trust me. He gave me tips on how to manage, helped me settle in… all without any real reason to, other than he thought I was good.” He could feel tears starting to form, and he blinked them away. “V’s been through so much. I don’t even know the half of it, but even the little that I do know-“ he couldn’t keep going down that vein. “He deserves better. He doesn’t deserve any of this prison.”

There was silence between them then, both looking to V’s corner contemplatively. Patton could tell Roman was thinking something over, and he waited patiently for him to say whatever it was, taking deep breaths to steady himself as he did so.

When Roman did speak again, it wasn’t at all what Patton had been expecting.

“I’m going to talk to him,” Roman vowed. Patton’s head turned so he could better see him, and the glinting resolve in his eyes was unmistakable. “When he wakes up, that is.”

“Are you sure?” It slipped out before he could stop it, and he slapped a hand sharply over his own mouth. Roman reached out and gently removed it, meeting his eyes and placing his shackled hand over his heart. 

His hand was warm where it grasped Patton’s wrist.

“I am. I swear it to you, Patton. On my honor, I will make this better.”

* * *

Virgil could hear Patton and Roman talking.

He remained still, feigning sleep, but he heard every word that passed between them. 

His heart ached when Patton got choked up, saying how Virgil deserved better. He didn’t know what to think when Roman promised to make things right.

He especially wasn’t sure how to feel when he heard a chain clink faintly, and the telltale sound of Patton crying- but not despairing sobs. It was almost… light, almost _ happy. _

“Thank you.” 

Patton’s voice was unmistakably hopeful and slightly muffled, like he was speaking while he was hugging someone.

Deep inside Virgil’s heart, one of his many walls came tumbling down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s that? First time in V’s perspective and it lasts maybe a paragraph, and he also refers to himself by his own name? That’s right folks, I just did that


	21. The In-Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the metaphorical storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter isn’t all that much, but the confrontation between V and Roman is giving me a lot of trouble, and I want to make sure it’s right because it’s pretty darn important. So I’m putting this part here right before that as its own chapter, just so it’s not as long of a wait.
> 
> I also organized the tags, just to make them a little more coherent and sensible.

Roman had to wait awhile for V and Patton both to wake up before making his move. Getting V to listen to him for even a moment would be hard enough; he couldn’t imagine trying to do it without Patton there acting as a mediator. The problem was, while V had been sleeping for a few hours, Patton had only just now drifted off, still holding onto Roman. It would be several more hours at least until both men woke up, and therefore that many more hours until he had to actually confront V. This gave him some time to sit, allowing him to think through everything he was going to say. Which was quite necessary, considering the dread that pooled in his stomach when he had realized what he would have to include along with his apology.

It was like V said: he didn’t have a reason to trust Roman. Ergo, it was up to Roman to provide him with _ something. _ And about the only thing he had to offer was the reason he was in prison in the first place. His story. His status. His _ mission. _

The thought made him shudder, and he sighed to himself as he slowly leaned back against the wall, cradling Patton carefully so as not to jostle him from his much-deserved sleep. Putting his plan off was so much easier than actually going through with it, and there was a decent chance he would’ve found excuses to keep pushing it away for a long, long time, if not for the promise he made to the man in his arms. When he had sworn to mend the situation between himself and V, he meant it. Never once had Roman ever backed out of a promise made of his own free will, given to someone who hadn’t asked for it, and he wouldn’t break that pattern now. Not when Patton had already been so kind to him in the short time they’d been sharing the cell, making his imprisonment more bearable. 

Roman took a real look at Patton, then, studying him by the faint amount of daylight left shining into their cell, steadily fading but enough to see by. From this angle, looking down to where his face was nestled against his chest, he could still clearly make out the gaunt lines of hunger and exhaustion there; could still see the dirt and dust caked on his clothes. The sight made something in his chest physically ache, an uncomfortable tightening that signaled _ wrong, wrong, wrong. _

Patton deserved better than this squalid prison. Patton deserved better, period.

So if sharing his circumstances and his mission helped to make things even a little better, he would do it. 

And if doing so put Roman himself at risk, then so be it.

* * *

When Patton opened his eyes, all he could see was the gray-smeared fabric of Roman’s shirt. Blinking, he tilted his head up as best he could from his angle, catching a glimpse of the edge of his jaw before the pinch in his neck forced him to look down again. That was when he realized he was practically sitting in Roman’s lap, being cradled in his arms.

He instinctively started to move, intending to relieve Roman of his weight, but stopped when Roman looked down at him and smiled. It looked strained, and worry pulled at his brow, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“Did you rest well, Pat?” He asked, voice lowered. Patton nodded, unsure of what to do with himself. Did he stay put or leave? He had ended up in Roman’s arms after he started crying again, and must have drifted off without realizing. Had he accidentally made him uncomfortable?

“Not at all,” Roman said. Patton felt his face heating up: he hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. “You’re welcome to stay right where you are however long you want, if you’re comfortable. I don’t mind.” 

That wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting, and it confused him more than anything. This wasn’t something he knew how to handle; he hadn’t exactly fallen asleep in a friend’s arms before to know how to act. Was this normal? Would Roman judge him if he didn’t move, or if he did? What did it say about Patton that he didn’t _ want _to move?

The horrible, questioning voice in the back of his head tried to speak up, then, reciting words he had heard read from declarations and regular reminders his entire life. The same voice that doubted V as his son and held a modicum of agreement with Brantley started to rise, and Patton had never gotten away from someone faster than he fled from Roman’s lap in that moment, pushing himself nearly to the corner of the cell. Anything to quiet that voice, to stop hearing its poisonous words.

But when he saw the surprise and barely-concealed hurt on Roman’s face, something shifted inside his chest. The voice was drowned out underneath the insistent yearning for Patton to _ go back, _to stay with his friend, to relax, to…

Face open and earnest, Roman held out his arm in a welcoming gesture, and his decision was made.

Patton scooted himself back, pressing against Roman’s side and leaning his head against his chest. One of those strong arms settled across his shoulders, and then Roman was whispering in his ear.

“It’s okay.” His voice was calm and comforting, and he said everything like he knew it for a fact, straight from the powers that be. “We’ll all be okay. Things will work out in the end, even if it takes awhile to get there.”

Patton didn’t have any kind of answer, but Roman didn’t seem to expect him to. Together, they stayed put, the silence between them comfortable, and Patton let the tiredness slowly seep out of his bones as he settled. Maybe… maybe another few minutes here, tucked against Roman, listening to each other’s breathing, wouldn’t be so bad. It was much better than sitting by himself in the corner, anyway.

V was still sound asleep, facing away from them against the opposite wall, his curled-up position making him look smaller than he really was. 

Feeling more content than he had in a while, Patton dared to hope that by the time he next slept, the tension and rivalry in their small cell would be gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the most exciting of chapters, I know, but I want to take my time for the confrontation and some of the stuff that comes after that.


	22. Start of An Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman finally confronts V.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a ton of fun to write, I hope you enjoy it!

Roman sighed when he saw V stir in the corner and finally push himself upright. Now that he was awake, it was time to attempt to earn his trust. 

This was going to be a painful experience, he knew that for sure.

“Patton,” he whispered, not wanting to startle him too much. “He’s awake.”

From his place in Roman’s arms, Patton moved, giving himself just enough distance to stretch out his arms. 

“Okay,” he whispered back, giving him a small, encouraging smile. “You can do this, Roman.”

He could do this. No backing out.

“V,” he called out, “Can we talk?”

The man in the corner didn’t move, facing the wall and not offering a response.

“V?” He tried again, only to get the same lack of answer. Caught off guard, Roman glanced back at Patton to find him biting at his nails, gaze fixed on V. 

He had to keep going.

“So.” He coughed, unsure of how to begin. “I believe an apology is in order?”

V’s head whipped around so fast it was a blur. The look on his face could’ve sent the Old East’s tyrant queen herself running for the hills, screaming for mercy, and it struck a primal chord of fear in Roman’s blood.

“I’ll apologize to you over my dead body,” V hissed, eyes wild, teeth bared like a rabid animal ready to strike. Roman immediately put his hands up in a placating gesture, backing up on his statements as V stood from the floor.

“That’s not what I meant,” Roman tried to say. “You’re not-“

“Oh, so this is about  _ me  _ now? Not what? I’m not  _ what,  _ exactly?” V demanded, stomping forward until he was towering over Roman, hands fisted against his sides, glaring down at him through his wild bangs. “Go on, why don’t you tell me? Tell me exactly what you’ve got to say about me! Spit it out, come on!” 

So he did.

“You’re not the one who should be apologizing,” he said, working to keep his voice level. “I am.”

V stumbled backwards as if Roman had physically pushed him. His eyes were practically bugging out of his head, mouth opening and closing speechlessly.

“I pushed your boundaries and vastly overstepped. It was wrong of me to pry, and I haven’t been trying to de-escalate our arguments like I should have. I have made my presence in this cell a severely bad thing for you, and I cannot give you enough apologies.”

By then, V was staring at him, stunned into silence, the expression on his face unreadable. Patton stepped forward to stand next to him, a tentative hand on his arm, while Roman pressed on, determined to finish.

“You were and are completely valid in not trusting me. I haven’t told you much of anything about why I ended up in this cell with you, or who I am. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for trying to force you to set all those concerns aside when I should’ve tried to give you reasons to believe me instead. This unpleasant situation we’ve all been in is because of my own faults.”

V’s face had become even paler than usual, arms hanging limp at his sides as he gaped at Roman. Patton was now holding his hand loosely, trying to watch both of them at the same time.

A pause for air. Stop a moment, to see if he has anything to say. Keep going.

“All that to say, I’m sorry, V. I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, but I want to try and make it up to you, if you’ll allow me.”

He waited with bated breath, having no idea how V was going to react. Anger? Confusion? Acceptance? Something totally different?

“...How?” V finally said cautiously.

“What do you mean, how?” Roman asked. 

“How do you plan to make it up to me? I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

It was by far the most civil interaction they’d had so far, and it gave Roman hope that he was on the right track. “I want to tell you both how I ended up here, and what I was doing. You could say I’m offering to share my backstory, if you’re open to hearing it. I don’t really have a way to prove I’m not lying, but it’s the best thing I can think of to give you, especially considering I tried to make you reveal your own personal things.”

V’s expression shifted rapidly, from one emotion to another, tiny movements that conveyed more meaning than Roman could possibly take in at once. What was going on, he wondered, inside V’s mind at that moment?

“Okay,” V said at last, slowly lowering himself to the ground. “I’m listening.”

Roman rubbed at the shackle on his wrist, searching for the right words to start with. As he prepared, Patton sat down slightly to his right, halfway between the two of them, a different support system for both.

“First,” Roman began, “I really am from the New East. If nothing else, I think my outlook compared to yours confirms that. I was born there, raised there, still live there. It’s my home. I’m a soldier in the royal army, a captain, in fact, and have been for several years. My brother’s a soldier, too.”

“You have a brother?” Patton and V said, nearly simultaneously. Roman didn’t bother concealing the pain that leaked into his voice.

“Yes, I do. Twin, in fact. His name is Remus.” 

“Tell me about him,” said V, watching Roman’s face intently. 

He winced. “Remus is… irreverent, to say the least. He likes blood and lewd jokes and drinking. You can never tell exactly what he’s going to do or say from one moment to the next.” Try as he might, he couldn’t stop a fond smile from tugging at his mouth, thinking about his  captured brother. “He can be the most irritating person in the world sometimes, especially when we were younger, but I guess that’s part of his charm. The two of us have never really been apart, since he’s part of my regiment.”

“But then you were captured or something, right?” V said. “Tell me about that. It’s what I don’t understand. If you’re from the New East, why were you and your men brought to the Old East?”

Roman squinted at him, confused. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Well, the New and Old East have been fighting for years. We’re trying to win a war, to make things better for everyone in both kingdoms. I’m part of that war, sent to capture important locations and join forces with rebels here in order to force your tyrant queen to surrender.”

V’s eyes widened, and Patton rubbed at his arms, looking nervous. “We’re at war?”

“Yes.” Roman looked down. “The borders between our kingdoms have been shut down for years, and we can only get through by using extremely secret, guarded access points. The location of one of those points was my secret responsibility as captain. Before we were attacked, my brother must have realized we’d likely be captured soon, and swapped our patches.” He gestured to the lopsided sword on his shoulder, speaking around the tightening in his throat. “We’re identical twins, so even someone who knows my face would fall for his trick. A moustache can be grown out or removed, after all. So when we were brought here, even though I tried to stop him, it was Remus who got taken to an extraction cell instead of me.”

_ “I don’t want to die.” _

“Oh, Roman…” Patton touched his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“He doesn’t know the location of an entrance through the border, or even the full extent of our mission. No matter what happens, he knew he wouldn’t be able to break, so he gave himself up for me.” 

_ “You’re more important than me! You’ve got all the stuff in that oversized head of yours!” _

“He sounds very brave,” V said carefully, every syllable clipped. “It can’t have been easy to make that sacrifice.”

_ “We’re identical! I don’t have a choice!” _

Roman was not going to start crying. He was not.

“These things… happen, sometimes, you know? It’s all part of a soldier’s duty, I suppose,” he said, trying to sound casual and proud. “We’re all prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice each and every day, even for each other.” His facade was broken almost immediately by the hitch in his breathing, the half-formed sob that demanded an escape. “We’ve all seen someone we’re close to die. One of our regiment, a captain, a friend…” 

His brother’s broken smile flashed into his mind, accompanied by every soldier he had ever known who breathed their last on the battlefield. All of them had been someone’s child, someone’s sibling, someone’s spouse, even. And all of them were gone, dead and buried, forever. In his worst fears, Remus stood alongside them.

Roman wasn’t usually a crier. He tended to get angry, not sad, and often his tears never fell at all. But this was the exception, apparently, as he felt a single tear slide down his face, carrying all of his swirling emotions with it on its way. He closed his eyes, but the vision of his fallen comrades and Remus wouldn’t disappear. All he could see was one face after another, a line stretching past him in either direction, vanishing over the horizon.

A hand touched his knee. He reluctantly opened his eyes, ready to quietly thank Patton for the comfort, but the words died on his tongue. 

It wasn’t Patton’s hand at all, but V’s.

His pale face was creased in thought, brow furrowed and eyes distant, as if he were contemplating an unusual battle strategy instead of staring down at the dirt floor. Several times, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but every time he closed it without saying a word. 

Patton, meanwhile, seemed to be on the verge of tears himself, face practically splitting from the beaming smile on his face at the gesture. Despite himself, Roman had to smile at the sight.

Finally, his attention was pulled back to V, who had raised his head and was making direct eye contact as he spoke.

“I believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this chapter was a lot more volatile, which is why I called the previous chapter the calm before the storm. When I released that chapter, what I had written so far was a really heated argument, but as you can see that ended up changing, and I’m a lot happier with this version.   
I’m also legitimately excited for you all to see the rest of the conversation, and especially what comes after!


	23. Developments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several new things happen in our cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck around for this chapter! We’re getting places now!

Patton was definitely going to cry. Right when it seemed like V and Roman would never get along, they apparently decided to prove him wrong, because here they were, interacting without any screaming or dirty looks! He wouldn’t have believed it if it wasn’t right in front of him. 

Of course, he was also tearing up because of Roman’s story. Patton himself had no siblings, but he had been very close to people before, and the idea of anyone willingly letting themselves suffer for his sake made his stomach churn. He couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like; how had Roman held up so well? 

Maybe that was part of his role as a soldier.

* * *

Virgil had dealt with loss and grief plenty of times in his life. He was intimately familiar with what it felt like, and he knew what it did to a person. He’d have to be pretty dense not to by now, what with all the things he’d been through.

So when Roman started talking about his brother, and his face twisted with pain from the memories, Virgil saw right through the hasty attempts to disguise his emotions. Nothing could properly conceal the kind of raw, open wound that was clearly tearing him up from the inside. 

And there was no way to fake it, either.

No matter what he had done, or how many lines he had crossed in the days before, he was telling the truth.

So he mustered up all his courage, all his resolve, and reached out his hand. An olive branch, fragile in body but strong in spirit, extended across the massive gap dividing them.

* * *

Roman had no words.

How was he supposed to respond to this? What did this mean? Did V believe his claims about Remus, or about where he came from, or about his intentions? Was it possible all this fighting could come to an end?

“You believe me?” He said, stunned, unsure if this was real. “Just like that?”

“Not just like that,” V corrected. “You had to apologize first. And I still want to know exactly what you were supposedly doing here. But I can tell you’re not lying about your brother. I know what that sort of thing feels like, and you can’t fake it.” He paused again, then removed his hand from Roman’s knee. “So, tell me more. I want to know.”

“Well, I can’t tell you our entire mission, since it’s classified,” Roman said, “but I’ll gladly tell you more about the kingdom.”

“No,” V said, frowning, “tell me why you’re here. If your brother gave himself up for you, then whatever you’re here for must be important, and I want to know what it is.”

“I can’t,” Roman repeated. “I’m sorry. Ask me anything else and I’ll answer, but not about my mission.”

V stared him down. “Would you tell me if I said I wanted to help?”

“Help?” Roman said in disbelief. This was most certainly not the direction he expected this conversation to take, but it wasn’t unwelcome by any means. “With the mission? With the war?”

“Yes.” V looked strong, in that moment; far stronger than Roman would’ve thought possible from a malnourished prisoner. “If you’re fighting against Queen Emily, then I want in. I want to help take her down.”

“Really,” Roman mused, feeling a smile spread across his face. Could his luck truly be this great? Finding an ally here in this prison? “If that’s the case, then you have my word: if we are ever reunited with my home forces, and I get approval from my superiors, then I will gladly share with you the extent of the mission. After that, I would be honored to fight alongside you in the name of freedom.”

V’s eyes seemed to gleam. “Thanks.”

Suddenly, Patton grabbed at V’s arm, face twisted up in horror. “But you- you can’t! You can’t do that!” He cried. “Why would you want to fight a war? What if you got hurt?”

V fixed him with a look that was all too familiar to Roman. It was caring, but unshakeable, with no room for doubt. “Look around, Pat,” he said. “Look at where we are right now. I’ve been here for years, doing nothing, with Brantley and his men hanging over me, and now there might be a way to fight back?” He pointed emphatically at Roman, eyes blazing. “He’s got a whole kingdom behind him that’s trying to save us! I’m done sitting around and accepting this sort of treatment. I’ve done enough of that, and at this point I’ve got nothing to lose. This place- it’s falling apart from the inside, and if I don’t at least try and do something to get out, then I’m going to be the first one who gets crushed.”

Patton was shaking now, expression agonized, like he was being ripped in two. “But what can any of us do? It’s pointless to even try, isn't it? It’s too dangerous! We’re locked up, and even if we weren’t…” he trailed off, silently pleading.

Roman saw a chance, and took it. “You said ‘we’, Patton.”

Patton looked up at him, surprised. “I- I did?”

He nodded. “Yes. Does this mean you would want to join our cause as well? Fight against the injustice that put you here?”

“I…” Indecision had never been so plain to see. Patton’s was the face of a man who didn’t know who he was or what he wanted, and two distinct parts of himself were fighting a raging battle. The question was, which would win?

Roman could sense that they were on the edge of something monumental. This was the spirit of rebellion, growing and lurking inside a cell deep in the heart of the Old East. Patton and V had the potential to help bring about real change, but only if he could get them out of here.

It was then that he fully realized what he had to do.

Somehow, someway, he needed to break out of this place.

But before Patton could even attempt to resolve his internal conflict, and before Roman could go any further with his line of thought, the sound of the outer cell door being opened sent V and Patton scurrying to the opposite wall, hiding the evidence of their conversation. Patton in particular looked like he had seen a ghost, face paling as unfamiliar voices filtered through, words indistinguishable.

Roman suddenly wanted to move over and comfort him, but his godforsaken chains held him back.

The door swung open, revealing two uniformed guards standing there, carrying an unconscious figure limp between them. 

Both V and Patton gasped, and Roman felt his own heart skip several beats. 

The stranger had to be a prisoner. There was no other explanation for the countless half-healed wounds and burns covering their limbs, or the dark bruises marring their face, or the ragged state of their clothes. If it wasn’t for the distinct rise and fall of the person’s chest, Roman would’ve sworn there was no way they could be alive. 

As the guards wordlessly dragged the new prisoner into the cell, depositing him facedown right in front of Patton and V, Roman saw a certain look pass between his two cellmates. Something shocked and panicked. Rattled.

As quickly as they appeared, the guards were gone, locking the now-four of them back in. The new prisoner lay where they had been dropped, features concealed by a mat of dark hair, grimy and dirty and still.


	24. Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before our group can adjust to the new presence in their cell, another twist arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been busy with writing for a zine in another fandom, so that’s why this one took so long to come out! Luckily, I’ve regained a lot of inspiration for this fic, so I’m cautiously optimistic that I can get another chapter done soon between zine writing. It’s been nice to return to this little world!

Roman was the first to edge forward, pulling his chains to their limits to press a finger against the stranger’s neck. A pulse beat there, slow and steady. 

“Is… is he alive?” Patton said faintly, not moving from the wall. Roman nodded.

“Yes.” He moved aside the prisoner’s tangled hair and tried to wipe away a smear of blood from their battered face. “Somewhat.”

“Will he be okay?” Patton asked, and Roman hadn’t been expecting the sorrow he heard in his voice. Concern and worry, yes; fear, even. Patton had a soft heart. But sadness? Where was this coming from?

His confusion must’ve shown on his face, because V joined him, crouching at Roman’s side. He spoke quietly, just above a whisper, but Patton probably heard nevertheless. “We’ve seen him before,” he said carefully. “He was in here for a little bit, before… well. He’s back now, I guess.”

“You know him?” Roman looked back at Patton, understanding starting to emerge. “What happened?”

V winced. “It’s… well,” he said, gaze flicking briefly to Patton. “Now’s probably not the best time.”

“I understand.” A beat. It seemed that much more had happened before he arrived in thes cell than he had known. “What’s he like? He probably won’t wake up for a while, by the look of these injuries, but it’d be nice to know what to expect.”

“He wasn’t here long, so I’m not too sure,” V admitted. “But I do know he gets... really cranky if you try and touch him. I thought he was going to kill Pat the first time.”

Roman nodded and pulled his hand back. “Got it. Lovely.”

Patton spoke up, still not budging away from his spot at the wall. “I can hear you guys, you know.”

V rubbed the back of his neck, and Roman lowered his head. “My apologies, Patton,” he said guiltily. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Patton said, and though he sounded weary, he didn’t seem annoyed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to try and protect me. I’m… I’m really okay.”

Roman couldn’t say he fully believed that, not after witnessing his earlier meltdown. Even if Patton really was beginning to cope with his imprisonment, there was no telling what might break him again.

V seemed to know what he was thinking. “It’s not that we’re trying to hide anything, we just don’t want to make you feel worse,” he said, not making eye contact with either Roman or Patton. “I don’t like it when you’re hurting. And this guy is…”

Patton sighed. “I know, kiddo. Trust me, I know.” His voice wavered, but he pressed forward with his words. “But I don’t want to be fragile forever. You shouldn’t have to worry about me every second, and I don’t think you have to. I really think that having you two here is helping, at least a little.” He reached up and ran a hand through his hair- had he picked it up from V? “Talking things out before helped, too. Or maybe I’m finally adjusting to all this, who knows. Just… go ahead, I’ll be alright.”

Roman frowned, concerned. “Patton, it’s okay if-“

The cell door swung open without warning, on a course to strike Patton where he sat. He scrambled to rise to his feet and move out of the way, but in his haste, he wound up falling hard back to the ground against the far wall. Roman winced, ignoring whoever had opened the door and about to go check if he was hurt, when V nudged him sharply.

“Don’t move,” he hissed, nodding almost imperceptibly toward the open doorway. “It’s Brantley.”

_ Brantley.  _ The name rang familiar, and he quickly recognized it: the head guard of the prison, and a cruel and controlling one at that, from the description he’d been given. The man himself certainly looked the part, all menacing glare and bright red face, too-shiny armor and a poorly tied armband, hair an absolute mess and eyes bloodshot. Not a man Roman particularly wanted to be at the mercy of.

As soon as he thought it, Brantley looked Roman’s way, eyes lingering over the patch on his shoulder, and scoffed.

“One more brand of traitor joined the bunch, I see,” he said, voice low and coarse. “Cowering in the dust, just like you all deserve.”

Roman tensed, but V elbowed him sharply: a warning.  _ Don’t do it. _

“Why don’t you take another?” Brantley went on, more than a touch of malice in his tone. He barely spared a glance at the man still sprawled out on the floor. “I’m sure you’ll all get along, seeing as you’re all the same deep down. Scum and filth, every last one of you.” He turned around, motioning, and Joan stepped into view, guilt all over their face as they escorted a tall, light-haired figure into the cell. By then, there was barely any room for them to walk, between the unconscious prisoner in the middle of the space and the other three all lined up along the walls. 

Once the fifth- fifth! What kind of a prison was this, putting five people in the same cell?- prisoner was inside, standing stationary in the small stretch of space between Patton and Roman, Joan stepped back and Brantley heaved the door closed, peering through the barred window with barely-concealed glee.

“Or maybe you won’t get along, and you’ll all have torn each other to pieces by next sunrise! Wouldn’t that be a fitting end?” He cackled, madness in every syllable he spoke. There was something dangerous gleaming in his eye, a look that made Roman want to reach for a sword that he no longer had. “Do our good queen Emily a favor, why don’t you? Take care of yourselves so we don’t have to!”

Next to him, V froze, and Roman heard Patton’s breathing hitch. Brantley threw his head back and laughed, the sound maniacal and unnatural, before finally walking away, Joan trailing behind him. The fading remnants of his deranged laugh echoed in Roman’s ears long after the man himself was gone.

At least, until someone began to speak.

“Well.” The voice was new: the light-haired prisoner Brantley had brought with him. Roman looked up at them, noting that they had a black eye and a split lip. “I suppose an introduction is in order?”

None of them responded. Patton’s mouth was open in surprise, and Roman was more caught off guard than anything else at both the suddenness and the flat, businesslike tone. His mind struggled to figure out how to react, processing, and all the while the light-haired prisoner remained blank-faced and motionless.

It was V who finally said, tentatively, “If you want to, then go ahead, I guess.” 

They nodded primly. “Very well. My name is Logan, and I’ve heard about you.”


End file.
